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My art process. Military Life. My Cause.

Space. Separation. Solitude.

TEN Years ago I wrote this post and as I reread it, it still rings true!

As a military spouse I have experienced different types of separation. Separations with many time zones crossed. Some with more uncertainties than others. In this age of instant communication, I have learned about waiting. I have sent many emails that feel like “lost letters.” During one separation that felt the longest for me, I did not hear from him for over two weeks. Not an email. Not a phone call. Not a text. That disconnection was almost unbearable.

Deployment...

Hours, days, weeks, months....they all add up. Personally it feels like time behaves differently when your other half is in harm's way. This piece is an attempt to depict the way time feels.

Overall size 8' x 25' (made up of 18, 8'x6" canvases)....still blank, paint coming soon!

Even though I have been gathering info from my soldier about wartime images ,the spacing in this piece describes the element of time from my perspective. In the beginning there is a dragging on. Almost a ripping away feeling, as I have spent every possible moment with him before he leaves, and then he’s just gone. There’s a painful emptiness.

I remember my first deployment goodbye EVER in 2010. We stayed up late the night before, we got a movie with every intention to watch it, but didn’t get around to it. He bought flowers (upon my request) because beauty has a way of lifting my spirit. We woke up and he made videos for me to watch while he was gone (for when I miss him and can't call him - because I have to wait for him to contact me.)

We went to Waffle House, and conversation was awkward. I wanted to enjoy it and be normal, but in my mind I knew in a couple hours I would be giving him his last hug and kiss for a WHILE. A long while. Words were stuck in my throat. So I just looked at him and commented about the food, small talking my way through it. Anyone who knows me would tell you this is not my style. I love delving deep. Not this time. I wanted to just keep it (mostly) together and try to think about anything except this HUGE gap we were facing. He surprised me after breakfast, and we stopped at a nearby park and strolled, enjoying what beauty was left that February. We embraced and even danced to one of our songs in order to feel close before we drove to where I was dropping him off. It is all the small things in those moments that matter. The hand holding, the hugs, the kisses, my mind and heart try desperately to capture them, how they feel.

a picture of how big the first gap will be. (22inches)

The together memories are freshest in the beginning. The days drag as I learn to accept this will be my reality for a while. I will not get to welcome him home each night. I will not be sharing about my days over dinner every evening. We will not be keeping each other warm as we fall asleep. So I depicted the second longest space in the very beginning of my piece. For me it takes a bit to change gears. To figure out what this separation is going to look like. On both ends. How will the internet be where he is going? How often will he be able to call or Skype? How busy will he be? Who will I spend most of my time with here? Who do I know that is facing the same thing right now? How can I stop avoiding my empty bed?

Eventually plans do get made…..sometimes more than others. I get some sleep. A groove is found and the pieces getting closer together reflect that new rhythm. It is not a given, but many times I can find a friend or two and we do dinner together or hang out on the weekends.

Then there is the half way slump. It is a mixture of emotions….I feel happy that I’ve made it half way, but then again that first half felt SO long… can I really make it through the second half?! Can I really face it? The time and distance are so massive, there is no way around it. Busying myself or traveling doesn’t make it go away. The separation goes with me. Each time I come home or there is a lull in the busyness, the separation is there. The longing to be together. The desire to connect for an entire evening, not just a snippet of time. But those snippets get me through. The emails that are in my inbox when I wake up. The rare occasion of a package or letter. The phone calls or iMessages when he’s available. They all get me through. It takes work to stay connected and open, for both of us. This piece is about being WORLDS APART but still working to be TOGETHER, through the good, the bad and the ugly.

Usually I have my "Half Way Never. Going. To. Make. It. Meltdown".... because I feel that I should be encouraged or MORE encouraged that we are halfway through, but some days all I can see is how BIG the second half seems. Eventually I find my rhythm again. I get back into doing life and making plans. Often I have a couple things planned that I look forward to.

It’s helpful if I spread my plans out a bit, because I have learned over time that depending on the build-up or preparation, I can experience a bit of a letdown afterward. For example, my third daughter turned ONE last deployment and historically (with our other two) their first birthdays were a BIG deal. Even though she wouldn’t have known that I didn’t throw a party (until she was much older); I felt it was important to stay true to our traditions, even though my husband was gone. Thankfully with GOOD help and a little money spent (for some items that I wouldn’t normally pay for), IT WAS A GREAT BASH! I did it! The rain held off, people came, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. But afterward there was that letdown…. I have realized it with other big events too. A sort of build up and excitement before and during the event, and then a low when it is finished. My friend described it as “an adrenaline letdown.” Combined with my normal good and bad days of deployment, I can fall into the pit of despair if not careful.

One of my books I am making to stay connected to the good memories.

I am a person that craves closeness and connection. One thing I do while to keep my heart open and soft while we are separated is to reflect. I reflect on the good times by making books with our old photos. During our second deployment I made a book about our beginnings. I wrote about our first date and our wedding, plus our first year. It is something I still look back on to remind myself how much we love each other. Our vows are in there so we revisit them on our anniversary. I also have a special playlist on my phone that is called “love stretching the miles”. They are all songs that make me think of my love. Sometimes I play them loud and dance silly. Other times I just cry as my heart is softened and remind myself that no matter how many times we say goodbye, I still matter to him.

The “home” stretch is always a whirlwind of emotions for me. Not unlike many of my fellow army wives, we have goals to accomplish in the time apart. Sometimes that half way point can be a wake up call that I haven’t gotten as much done as I had hoped to. Whether the goals are projects or fitness oriented (two seemingly common goal areas), if the first half is unproductive, the disappointment can set in. When that is the case I have to remember that I am not “winning him back” or “proving my worth”, I am WELCOMING HIM HOME. I keep chipping away, but mostly I need to “be kind to myself” and judge my accomplishments in light of all I shoulder when my other half is gone.

My girls with their Auntie preparing a sign for daddy, morning of his return.

The COUNTDOWN is an exciting time. It is close enough that I have to start leaving my schedule open to account for the BIG change that is about to occur. Wanting him home and wanting the wait to be over is so thick, I find that I am distracted by it. It can be consuming. Sometimes there is a surge of activity, but I choose to pace myself. He is not just coming home to the 4 walls, but to me. I need to be open to him relationally. The end stretches on to what feels like forever…..I try to prepare my mind for a stage that I never knew existed: REINTEGRATION…..This is the time of trying to become a family all in one place again. Everyone has changed. And even the GOOD changes take adjusting to. There is pain and hardship that has to be unburdened on both sides and intentional TIME TOGETHER is the only way I know how to figure it out….of course personal space is needed too, but I must not give in to the thought that being healthy “just happens” by him returning home.

Before I ever experienced deployment, my expectations of separation and how I would feel were different than reality. I thought “I am a independent person, I have art to make and friends to hang with…” . But I can feel lonely even with all that. I miss the fun and lightheartedness that my husband brings to my life. Life with him has the potential for a crazy adventure every weekend. New projects. Impromptu dinner parties, just FUN. I am naturally a bit more serious……yet I am learning that I need a variety of interactions, deep conversations, as well as silly and light times. When He is gone, I must be more intentional about seeking this out.

Deployments have taught me that I need others who are in tune to me and my rhythms. Ones who know the cycle of emotions that come with deployment, usually because they have lived it, or are living it beside me. This is one reason the gardens at Rick's Place are so special to me. COMMUNITY. I've found a place to be me whether my husband is deployed or not. It's a place where there is no shame in receiving, but also plenty of ways to give back.

Earlier this month we people planting out at Rick's Place.

Remedy

There is a tension…..a relational tension. I need people, yet people let me down. There are times that I feel so misunderstood that it seems better to keep all the really important stuff to myself. When I do that- go into self-protective mode- I numb, or try to avoid all the bad; but I really end up going into a task mode. I am getting lots done, feeling productive, but sadly the good feelings that I long for, love and acceptance, are not there either. I can go a while thinking “I am doing great” ...until I can’t.

I am stretched with this new piece. Sometimes it takes a bit for me to know what my piece needs next. I have been projecting my blind contours on the canvases. I have never done multiple layers of projection. When I project the drawing, its size on the canvas enlarges or shrinks based on how far the projector is from it. I started with the lawnmower and sunflowers, then moved to the tank, guitar, and bicycle. It is surprising that the piece seems too small to fit everything I want. I never thought I would say this! All this planning and preparation is not my favorite, but I NEED to get it right! So I went back to the Airborne museum with all its sounds and sights, to do a couple more blind contours. … and I realize that put me a little on edge.

I was looking for encouragement when I showed a trusted friend my progress, and instead I found some corrective criticism. I took it to heart, even though I just wanted to blow it off. So even though I am a confident artist that has over ten years experience of selling my work, I was aching. What if I screw it all up? What if it isn’t as powerful of a statement as I am trying to make? What if I mess it up?! This place is a dangerous place to be. Dangerous because the fears start strangling my hope. I stop trusting that I am capable to problem solve any blunders.

SO WHAT GOT ME OUT? What was my remedy to this heart-sickness?

I called an artist friend. One that goes back to my freshman year of college. She knows what I am capable of and she is not afraid to tell me when I have gotten off coarse. Her work is very different than mine but she understands my style and my process. It started as a call and then we went to FaceTime…I thought she needed to “SEE IT”. See the challenges, see why I was going back and forth. She told me, “I know it is going to be great.” She didn’t give me the answer, but helped me to discover it for myself. Her reassurance helped me to be brave. Brave enough to get rid of the tank blind contour and to believe I would figure out how to fit it all….

Soaking it in.
I AM NOT MEANT TO FACE IT ALONE. YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO FACE IT ALONE.

We can be each other's remedy. The first time I heard this saying was when my friend was given a necklace from her cousin with the word ‘remedy’ on it. When her cousin gave the gift, she told her "you are my remedy." I kept thinking about that... My words, or my presence, could be someone's "remedy"....the just. what. I. needed. moment.

I think back to the moments and people during deployment that were remedies for me.

A phone call normalizing the crazy I was going through. When my emotions went from happy to angry the first time arriving home after a trip while he was deployed.

The coffee delivered with a hug from another mom going through deployment too.

The place for my pregnant body to crash and two small girls to play until the smell of bug spraying dissipated.

The place to drop my other two kids at a moment's notice so I could go to ER with my daughter who busted her head open.

The invitation to dinner.

The craft night, that I thought was just dinner and hanging out.

The Saturday that I did nothing but be. The plop yourself on the couch. Relaxed home away from the not-so-homey home. The conversation and coffee all while life happened in our lounge-wear.

The collaborative dinners. Experimental dinners with a trusted friend-if it bombed there was no shame.

The understanding that if your soldier calls TALK. ANSWER. TAKE YOUR TIME.

The help putting the kids in the car because I was outnumbered and tired.

The extra hugs, the waiting for me to let my guard down. The prayers and encouraging words that met my tearful eyes.

Surprising me with dinner for my family.

The exceptionally clear Skype or FaceTime.

Being able to stay, just because I can't think of a reason to leave to go to an empty home with dinner alone.

These are the healing balm to an aching heart. The people that understood and were open with their own struggles, and the others that were just available.

Adell's lyrics inspired the "remedy" necklace and as I listened to her song what stood out to me the most was "this ain't easy, it's not meant to be. Every story has it's scars ....."

Because many people have gone before me, and because at times it seems that others just "handled" things so much better than me… my feelings of failure become inflamed. The truth is that my story is unique. And it is hard. My struggles seem to change, but when I acknowledge it is not meant to be easy, I can enjoy the surprise of ease, if it ever arrives. All of us face struggles in one shape or form. The hardships that are mounting against you today are the "scars" that give you what it takes to walk with others, in order to be their remedy. There is beauty that comes through perseverance. I have "quit" many times only to realize that me "quitting" is the beginning of me getting through. I have to quit going at it alone. That means I can't just fake that I am strong or say " I got this."

" When the pain cuts you deep. When the night keeps you from sleeping. Just look and see. That I will be your remedy."

I know that my faith in God is what truly heals the deepest cuts, but I am surprised at how much He uses people. I have been completely discouraged and maxed out with army life. My man is training hard and no matter how much I tell myself that it is good and needed, stress can still get the best of me. Especially when I am not where I want to be with my artwork and the kids have being crying "I don't want daddy to go to far away work and die." This wears on me as a mom who wants to protect my kids from this type of emotional pain. There is little I can do, there are no guaranties that our soldiers will come back to us in the same manner that they left. It is a mental battle to not delve into the fear of loss before it happens. I have made this mistake and I have spiraled down, unable to be reached -until I start giving thanks for all I have, instead of dreading the loss of it.

I wasn't going to share this, but I had a friend encourage me not to gloss over it.
So may you find remedy today for the pain that cuts you deep.
Reach out. Call that friend. Be thankful for what you do have or at least work towards thankfulness.

Space. Separation. Solitude.

Deployment...

Hours, days, weeks, months....they all add up. Personally it feels like time behaves differently when your other half is in harm's way. This piece is an attempt to depict the way time feels.

Stretching Togetherness

I felt like a little girl awaiting Christmas morning as I waited for the 18 8 foot by 6 inch canvases to arrive. The company I ordered them from had said Tuesday, March 22 would be the day. Tuesday came and went and no canvases. Wednesday came and went. No matter how many times I looked out the window, the canvases didn't arrive. Thursday I called and got a tracking number. These beauties were coming all the way from Canada. One company had started the delivery and another would finish it.

That Saturday, still with no canvases, I found refuge in my studio during my girls’ nap time. I tore 8 foot by 15 inch sheets of paper off the roll. I pinned them to the ceiling in order to get a better idea of scale and to plan out the placement of the blind contours. This is my first time pre-planning for a piece. I wanted to get an idea of how BIG it really was going to be. After doing the "Birthday Winner" piece, I realized the most important part of these pieces with the black gesso is the composition of the blind contours. The shape of the negative space can make the piece interesting or fall flat. How much will I enlarge the blind contours when I project them? How many more do I need? How much overlapping will there be in the blind contours? How readable should the images be? All questions I ask myself. This is the first time since college that I have had a specific assignment so to speak. For me, this is much different from all my commissions. Some clients have had an overall feeling that they wanted me to convey, but ultimately it has always been about a certain look (based on past works).

With these questions swirling, after looking at my drawings and talking to my soldier; I have decided I still need some other staples to depict the war-reality half of the piece. I am anticipating using tank and helicopter drawings as well as some different depictions of guns, possibly a HUM-V and body armor (yet to be drawn). Also I am still brainstorming the home-front imagery as well.

Eventually the canvas company did call. The delivery time window was 11-3 on Monday. I arranged my day accordingly, and that time came and went. Little did I know, 5:45 would be perfect time for them to arrive. Because they weigh a total of 300 pounds, I wanted the canvases to go straight to my studio, just a couple yards behind our house....the delivery man had only a dolly and he told me that he would only take it as far as the pavement went. All day as I waited, I had been preparing homemade spaghetti sauce. One of our family favorites, rigatoni (a mix between lasagna and baked ziti), was on the menu. That evening, we were hosting three important potential supporters for RHF. Making dinner, while I waited, had been an all-day affair. Thankfully I felt relatively calm.

My husband's brother, who we only see about once a year (due to busy schedules), was also joining us for dinner. He and his girlfriend had offered to take my girls with them to check out the progress on Rick's Place (RHF's property.) In my time alone, I was chopping the salad toppings and waiting. I heard a knock at the door. My husband's friend was also in for the weekend, and he popped in to say goodbye before he flew back to Texas. His timing was perfect. The canvases arrived and this friend helped the delivery man get the box of paintings to the studio. Otherwise that box would have stopped at the garage. The waiting was finally over!

Then something quite unexpected happened..... I felt a new weight. Excitement turned on its head and heaviness came quickly. I hadn't realized that I had been trying to go at it alone. Just like any deployment, going at it alone is never best. The emotions of our upcoming deployment came over me, even though I have months until it is time to say goodbye again. Making this piece brings those far too familiar emotions right to the surface.

Like this balloon, I was alone and stuck.

It was time. I needed to prep my canvases. The gesso I normally use is white. Gesso is used to prime the canvas so that it can withstand the paint. It creates a barrier between the oil paint and the fibers in the raw canvas. Most canvases that are pre-stretched are already gessoed, but since I custom ordered these canvases, they came unprimed.

I spilled a whole gallon of black gesso. A mess. Instead of cleaning it up, I just painted with it off the floor. That was a bad idea. So bad that I didn't even text my husband. I couldn’t gather my composure enough to figure out the best way to clean it up. My mind went to my friends who are alone now, and to those who never welcomed their soldier back home. My job, my hope, is that through this piece, I can be a voice. A voice that says that there are many real families that choose to live for freedom, knowing if they don't, someone else will go in their place. I have thought of it over and over. Why us? And then I think about my husband and how he loves fighting for freedom, even though he hates leaving us. He was made to be a soldier. He does his job well and I continue to learn what it means to do my job well. I did not grow up appreciating the sacrifices that have been made and those who still make them. Now I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to those who have paid the ultimate price. They don't want our pity, they want the torch to be carried on, that those behind them would be bold and brave, living for a cause bigger than themselves.

Spilling that gesso caused me to see that my heart was hurting and that I needed help. The state of my heart is important when I am creating. Normally I skip to my studio, but lately that lighthearted nature has been hard to find. My husband came in and it was not the help I thought I needed. After helping me clean it up, he mentioned to me that I was not making the coats even (this part of the process is more like house painting- not my expertise). I was doing it as evenly as I could, but I am not methodical. That is good for my art usually, but in this moment, I was falling short of the excellence that I crave.

We had planned to go to dinner and shopping (per my request) that night, but the conversation about the canvases had made me feel like that would not turn out so well. He was blowing off the driveway, I waved him down. I did the hard thing, I told him I would like his help. He came and started showing me how to overcome some of the technical difficulties I was running into with the black gesso. We got into a rhythm and I suggested that we do a quicker dinner and head back to the studio to finish off the date.

So it was sushi in our work clothes and back to gessoing after a quick stop to grab a treat. We had a blast! One of the best dates ever....I now felt the support I needed and wanted but hadn’t known how to get before. We were facing it together! He was excited to be able to help me in such a tangible way and I was so much happier with the way the canvases were turning out. I did some drawing while he gessoed and then I revisited the interview I had begun conducting about his perspective on deployment two weekends ago (more on that later).

Sunday we were able to finish the third and final coat as we worked together! This is massive. And overwhelming. Barely-fits-in-my-studio. And that in itself is important to the message. No one facing deployment/separation should face it alone. Don't minimize it, no matter the length. Gone is gone. Find community for the good days and for the not-so-good-days, when you want to just lay on the floor in your mess. My good friend always reminds me, "You must get out of your house or the four walls will close in on you." (Even if it is only to your mailbox.) Wherever you are on this journey of life, there will be insurmountable obstacles. Please don't try to face them alone. Reach out, invite someone to dinner (so you will actually cook like you love to) or go out to eat (try a new place or an old favorite). I have learned that I can't save too many things for when he returns home (sometimes we just repeat or highlight) or else I don't live in the meantime. So I watch the movie with friends or I make a new friend, I try a new hobby.....this is how I got into documenting my kids’ lives. It helps me feel connected and reminds me of all the good times we had together, even when the bed is cold and empty.

Today I am making the most of the days that we have together in the same place, so when the day comes that I can't just call him back to ask for help, he already knows I am for him. And that I need him. Invest in the love that can stretch the miles.

Names Matter

I turned 33 at the end of last year. Thirty-three was a big year for me, for my art. I completed 9 pieces and celebrated by throwing an Art Naming and Wine Tasting party. My husband and I had traveled to San Fransico and Napa Valley (California) for our 6th year anniversary/welcome home/reconnect trip last year. That trip inspired the wine tasting part. Art and wine go well together because wine makers take the art of making wine very seriously. Each one has its unique style and process variation that influences the final "creation." I wasn't aware of how intimate the process was until we toured those wineries.

One of the view we enjoyed while tasting some delicious wine.

Out of the 9 pieces I had completed, my husband and I had only named two. That's right, I let my husband help name my work! When we first got married I was preparing for a solo show that shared my journey from one name to another ( EAS, my maiden name, to EAW). We were newlyweds and he was a newbie to art as well. Getting ready for a show takes a lot of time, so in an attempt to invite him into my process, I asked if he would like to help me name my finished pieces. Naming is an important part of my process. I use it as one more layer of information for the viewer. I like to make it autobiographical, which means the name correlates with what was going on with my life when I made the piece. We also take into account what feelings/words the painting evokes when looking at it.

Therefore opening the naming process up to many people (on my birthday) was a....

STRETCH

beyond my comfort zone.

For the party, we turned our living room, dining room, and kitchen into a gallery . All family photos and non-EAW art were removed to make room for the nine pieces. We had quite the spread of fancy snacks to pair with some wines.

Our guests also brought their favorite bottle of wine to share. As people trickled in, we directed them to read our posted directions for the night, printed on bright yellow card stock. The main event was NAMING the artwork. There was also an option for the viewers to give their first impression using just one word, voting for the favorite piece, and a blind contour contest. The winner of the blind contour contest would get their drawing incorporated into my next painting.

To submit a name idea, our guests simply wrote the name on a post it note and stuck it beside the piece. We had a set time to read all the submissions aloud and then I picked the name on the spot. That felt a bit crazy. I hadn't fully decided beforehand, so it really came down to what struck me the most in the moment. I usually don't like to be put on the spot, but it was a fun and relaxed atmosphere. I even verbally processed through the decisions a bit, letting our friends know some of the other names that were in the running. Out of the 7 pieces that had name submissions, we chose 4 definite names and 3 tentative. In the future, I would like to be able to get this work into a gallery type setting and we would like the gallery patrons to also vote for the best name based on birthday submissions. I’m still considering how to make this happen. The name submissions were anonymous at the party, but it turned out that both paintings with blind contours of guns were named by soldiers. The others, interestingly, were not.

It is April now and I am happy to announce that I have finished the birthday contest piece (as promised). But I could not pick just ONE. There were so many inspiring blind contours. As I began to choose, I realized that the ones I was most drawn to belonged to the soldiers. So my newest piece, yet to be named, has 4 different blind contours from 4 soldiers.

At the party, #7 (Ballistic Neon) won first place for most people's favorite, with #2 (Upside of Manic) a close second. I was pleasantly surprised that even the color scheme (possibly being seen as less manly with the pinkish purple) did not deter their votes. When I painted "Ballistic Neon", I realized how ironic it was to make something so dangerous into something beautiful. It was a blend of warrior and my aesthetics. It reminds me of my marriage. A soldier and an artist. I had already been interested in doing more pieces in this style and the popular votes just reinforced my idea. The seed of the "Deployment piece" began to grow as my husband and I reflected on all that transpired that night and as we heard consistent rave reviews when we showed others my new work.

#2 Up Side of Manic Oil and Cold Wax on Panel 30"x30"

This party was pivotal in how I faced 2016. It was the first time since becoming a mom that I did more than dream about what I wanted to do next with my art. I started researching. I imagined this pitch, with the gallery patrons finishing the job we started that night, by naming the pieces. I remembered a suggestion (to enter ArtPrize) that was given in early 2014. I looked into it. As I researched, it became clear what action to take. I figured out the cost of the piece I was envisioning and then wrote a proposal in order to get a grant or private investor. Before I completed the proposal, there was a potential investor. The funds came in less than a week.

This is exciting! This is bigger than me and my name being known. I am creating this because I am inspired. I am creating this because I think the concept of connection during and after deployment needs to be talked about. I am passionate about helping families get the extra support they need because of these separations.

The Rick Herrema Foundation (RHF) is a non profit named after a soldier that paid the ultimate price, giving his life for freedom in Iraq in April of 2006. “When Rick claimed you as a friend, he was your friend for life; and for the 27 years Rick lived he never stopped serving others.” His name will not be forgotten. His life mattered. And RHF honors his name by making a difference in the lives of families who live through these deployments time and time again. That's why I have decided that all profits, whether prize money or the eventual sale of the "Deployment Piece" will be donated to RHF. This foundation has already seen me through one deployment lending continued support as I visited their community gardens every week to water and pick. My life has been impacted. I have made new friends. That (guilt free and kid-free) California trip I mentioned earlier was made possible with the help of special people I met there. If you, like me, are looking to make a difference in the lives of those who are still fighting for your freedom, and their families, then RHF is the place to donate. Or volunteer your time. Art matters to me. Names matter. Relationships matter. How we spend our lives matters. I'm finding new ways to use my art, and even my process, to make a difference. And you can too. This is a way to say thanks. This foundation provides a way to help those in the fight to keep their dignity as well as a place to connect and reconnect with their loved ones. I invite you to check it out. www.RHFnow.org

Blind Contours and Tangled Perspectives

Detail of "Urban Sniper" an example of one of the pieces in my current work that I used Blind contours in.

In middle school, I learned of this art exercise that changed my life and process as an artist. It is called blind contour. Traditionally, it was used to help with observation and to encourage the artist to trust their hand. Observation is key to drawing. I have been told over the years by my art teachers that you should observe twice as much as you draw. What makes a blind contour? To draw in this way, you don't look at your paper. Your eyes stay fixed on the object you are drawing. Another "rule" of creating a blind contour is that once your pencil (or pen in my case) touches your paper, you must not lift it. I start by picking a point of the object and then following the lines of the object. My blind contours are more than just the outline of the object. I include the lines that cut across it too and create the form. As I observe the object, I am trusting my hand to draw what my eye sees, which develops greater hand-eye coordination.

"Lilies"  Watercolor and pencil on paper — "Lilies" Watercolor and pencil on paper

I have been using blind contours in my finished work since I first learned about it. I enjoyed it so much that during my art lesson I decided to draw the lilies I was looking at with a blind contour. I drew one of the flowers and then I drew it again and again until my page was full of blind contour lilies. To make it a finished piece, I went back and watercolored the different shapes that the overlapping lines made (above). This piece marks the beginning of me using blind contours as the base or bones of my finished work, not just a warm-up exercise for my sketchbook. I have found that drawing from life brings life to my work. It adds interesting lines I would never have just drawn on my own. It brings a complexity as I blindly try to capture this wonderful world. It takes concentration and focus. On more complex objects , you have to remember where you started and where you have already drawn. There are times when I just completely forget whole sections of an object because I thought I’ve already drawn it..

Like this blind contour of a bike where I thought that I did both tires but I didn't do as much detail on the second one.

The way I add my blind contour to my canvas is with chalk pastels and a projector. One time did a piece where my blind contour was drawn directly on it (the canvas was smaller and fit in my lap). After doing the blind contour the lines became the first layer of this design, loosing all resemblance of what I was drawing.

With the projector, the drawing is also enlarged. As I think about tackling this large deployment piece, the drawings that I project onto the canvas are crucial to the overall message of the piece.

Sunday afternoon I packed up my sketch pad and a few favorite pens and headed off to a drawing date with my husband. My husband is not an artist by trade but he came to keep me company, add his input on what imagery would be critical in depicting his experience of deployments the last 15 years, and do some blind contours with me (because he loves me). We went to the Airborne Museum downtown and sat staring at a helicopter to do the first blind contours.

As we continued to draw different objects, we had some onlookers, kids and adults wondering, what are they doing? Right before we left, one of the museum staff got curious enough to ask. It was fun, challenging, and more emotional than I had anticipated. I was staring at things that are normal views for a soldier. I was faced with fear. I battle fear every time my husband deploys. As I drew, I faced it in a different way. A new way. I know there is danger, but this made it tangible. I didn't see the storm of fear coming, so when we tried to talk through the way this piece was depicted, my ears were plugged to what he was really saying....miscommunication happened and it took a good portion of the evening to untangle it.

Later we chatted together with a National Guard soldier who had just returned from his deployment (he crashed on our couch, awaiting in-processing before he could head home to WV) and I saw my next steps in gathering the content for this complicated piece. It is not just about two worlds, but the two perspectives of those worlds. The deployment world from the soldier’s perspective and the perspective of home from those who stay at home. We each have our battles for courage. We each have a choice to make. The choice we make each day, and many times throughout the day. How will we view this season of separation? Will we grumble and complain? Will we believe the other will never understand our obstacles or joys experienced? Or will we choose to persevere in untangling miscommunication even when they are not on the couch next to us. Will we see this time as a waiting and "lost" time, or a time to invest in our marriage in a different way?

My next task in preparing the imagery for this public work is to interview my husband to get a REAL feel about his perspective on deployment. I am thankful for our friend crashing on the couch and his valuable input on this complicated and long story I am trying to capture in 18, 96"x6" canvases.