Tag: mixed media

Awake Stroke Recovery Art

Posted on by Faith

Finishing “Awake” took much effort but it is here, reworked, beaming with color and striking details.

Bellow are my comments.

I woke to a new existence somewhere unknown, they called it a stroke. Now words come like slow snails, or they are kidnapped so as not to form on my chapped lips. 

I painted the emotional roller-coaster I felt as I played tug of war with my body, emotions, speech and interpersonal relationships. Ultimately I felt lost, defeated and misunderstood. I also thought I’d never paint again.

Grueling therapy and persistence with paint brushes helped me get to the point where I can say I’m awake. I’m awake to what has happened and the I’m happy the hardest part of it is behind me. Awake is about surviving the body after stroke and making it my new home.

You will find more images and a short video on Etsy. I also accept PayPal.

Thank you for letting me talk. Thank you for visiting SUNDRIP Art for Life.

Faith Magdalene

Sometimes I Feel Like A Freak

Posted on by Faith

This is about the stress and pressure from people telling me what I should be doing and me having a hard time finishing projects. Slowly but surely they are being completed, this one too very, very soon. –

Sometimes I feel like a freak but I try to hide it.

I try to blend in.

Say the right things, the right way.

I want to hold my face in the expression allowing emotions of the moment to show, balancing them on my brow and tongue like a real live woman.

I’m not normal. I’m not and the effort it takes to be, exhausts my tired spirit.

Sometimes I feel lost.

I’m lost

as ink scratches on

9×12 pads

roads and hills,

lands of dramatic color and wonder.

With each stroke of the pen to paper you hear the symphony of my madness.

There’s stress in the ink, acrylic and experimental designs. Stress to do it your way.

Change. Spotlight. Museum. Gallery. Gala. Teach. Speak, Lead!

Don’t waste your voice, your voice, your voice, your voice.

The art stops. The freak is seen clearer. And everyone finally goes home.

Faith Magdalene

The Deluge – Now in Etsy

Posted on by Faith

The Deluge is complete and is in my Etsy shop. One of the things I point out about the balance. The woman standing has legs and feet that are wound around. Each foot meets a tiger lily, a child and a purple flower in full bloom.

It is haunting in some areas. Those are the areas to leave behind. Those are the areas of the past that I can’t take with me to the future that I am building here. I’m not going to another planet. I’m right here. But some of these things need to swim free because they no longer have a place here.

If you visit my Etsy it’s worded better 🙂 You may also purchase through PayPal. Please see appropriate email address on the contact me area.

Thank you for listening,

Faith

The Southeastern Blue Bird

Posted on by Faith

“The Southeastern Blue Bird Learns A New Song” is a folk art original painting by Faith Austin. At 6.5×4.5 inches it’s miniature stature delights you with her song as she sits on a stick in the forest.

The song is new; it’s the song her father once sang. The young Blue Bird has yet to master it but she will, before the day ends.

This whimsical, folkart piece includes faux blue and orange features, music notes, flowers, branch, acrylic on paper, ink, water, wind and hope. She is signed, sealed and unmounted.

Etsy You can find me there.

Faith

A double shot of usefulness

Posted on by Faith

I’ve not shown off my Philodendron Hope plant in awhile. It’s growing out of two Betta tanks.

I’m going to clip it back soon and allow certain leaves to mature. It’ll look nicer cut back.

I have hope.

There’s no doubt about the hope I have, but the path to it feels difficult at times. Fear is enemy number one.

I know I have hope. I’m just having a hard time keeping my fingers on it.

Maybe it should be enough, the fact that I can see it and know it’s within arms reach.

Well, in typical artist fashion, I’ve got several projects in different stages all going at once. Still, I’m encouraged by the “I Believe” piece.

It seems to carry the same symbols as two other pieces, which is very interesting to me.

I’m so happy to be making art just for me! And I so love that one young girl’s hair is 3 hearts instead of round puffs. 🙂

OMGoodness I have fallen in love with collaging entire works with my own art scraps. How satisfying!

It makes me smile to paint here in this little place I’ve created; sipping tea, dabbing paint brushes, writing letters and such. Recently a naysayer called the entire apartment an ecosystem. He has no idea how happy that makes a girl like me.

I enjoy waking up to meaning, purpose and usefulness in my little ecosystem- apartment. I could use a double shot of usefulness about now.

Covid update – still running a fever. Unproductive cough, mostly at night. I still break out in a sweat which feels different from hot flashes. I have GI issues, a rash on my back, my scalp inexplicably itches, too. My blood pressure has dipped so low that I’ve passed out.

I ordered supplies from Amazon since getting to the store is out of the question. Coconut water, cheerios and of course jello were among many of the supplies. Why do I love jello so much?

Please excuse me, I’ve got some cuddling to do before the day begins.

Faith

Epiphany: A Future that is Mine

Posted on by Faith

CONTENT – Child Abuse. Strong emotion. Therapy Review. The art work is not finished but will eventually be in my Etsy shop.

If I believe I have a real future and a real hope, why do I keep wanting to go back and fix things? Why do I still feel like that little girl who needs her mother to love her?

No, it’s too late. I know she’s gone but I feel myself unable to give up. But not giving up the past means there’s less room for the wonderful future ahead, a future I firmly put faith in.

Today Dr D ask me if I could say anything to her what would I say? My words are in bold. I told her Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me! Keep away! You keep saying you’re going to give me a way, then do it!

That comment was interesting because the entire time I was talking to her I never said I love you or why don’t you love me? I never said hug me. I never said anything like that. It was it, Get away from me! Get away from me!

I didn’t want her to touch me ever again. I was angry about her watching me. I was angry about her letting others watch me. I was angry about all of the touch. I was angry about her destroying the mind of my sister. I was angry about her destroying the relationship I could have had with my sister. I just wanted her to go away. That was different from the feelings I thought I had. When I had the “spontaneous opportunity” to speak it was the voice of rage not a tiny, vulnerable child. That was incredible.

The artwork I’ve been doing lately shows exactly how I feel about my mother’s voyeurism. She was everywhere to the point that it was scary. Now that I think about it, if she stalked her boyfriend with us in the car of course she stalked my sister and me. And she wore that stupid black coat with the stupid hood looking like the grim reaper. She wasn’t holding anything, but dang! Standing in a pitch black hallway in a black trench coat watching people like a psychopath!

She told me she had people watching me and my sister and that nothing could be hidden from her. Dr D jumped in an said, “This is why you have DID.”

It was the most terrifying time of my life growing up with her and yet I thought I wanted that woman to love me. I wanted a little child me to go to her. To run to her. To be held by her.

Are you kidding me! No way! This is the woman who beat my lips with a wide tooth comb. Who beat my body with a towel rod. No. No. I have got to scrape this off of my heart so I can let myself have that future that’s so right in front of me. I’ve been crawling towards it. How do I scrape this off of me, the filth that she layered on me? The filth belongs to her. Whereas a future filled with hope is mine. I believe that with all my being.

Faith

OCD and Eating Disorders. Art.

Posted on by Faith

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Eating Disorders occur together up to 40% of the time. My OCD and my eating disorder have gone untreated because there were other things that took first place like getting me emotionally stable so I could stay out of the psych ward, moving to stable housing, stabilizing dissociation and of course getting beyond the hospitalization in 2018. There’s always been something to push attention elsewhere.

Dr D and I have been discussing OCD regularly, and I’m still reading the OCD workbook. That’s going slowly because it’s very triggering. I discovered one of the most traumatic memories wasn’t my mother being abusive but having strong OCD symptoms for which she never sought help.

Every year when we went to Kentucky we crossed a bridge. While crossing we had to sit perfectly still for fear of triggering my mother, who said she’d drive over the edge. THAT is part of her OCD. At a reoccurring meeting, I worried I’d stand up and scream the F-word. THAT is the same kind of symptom from the disorder I inherited from her.

My mother and I share quite a few symptoms. We both need to see our belongings. I arrange and rearrange my apartment almost daily. It used to be daily. Now it’s once a week. The meds for OCD have helped me in many ways.

I keep quite a few art supplies out for two reasons; 1- easy to access 2- easy to see them, which brings me comfort.

Right now I’m having a difficult time with compulsive eating. There’s the obsessive thoughts followed by the compulsion. A box of 10 Twinkies was purchased the other day. Once the box is opened I’m compelled to eat the entire thing or risk something bad happening to me. I’m not sure what, but it happens with most packages of food. If I open it I’m compelled to eat the whole thing. I’ll eat during the day and night. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night until the item has been completely eaten. This means high calories that don’t get worked off like they used to. To make matters worse, three of my most vital medications has the side effect of increased appetite. I have that pulling on me and OCD associated eating.

There’s no strong emotion followed by binging. It’s obsessive thoughts followed by binging and compulsive eating. I don’t purge in any way though it has recently crossed my mind. I don’t want to gain more weight but I also don’t want to ever purge again, in any way.

I have to say, being in a wheelchair has increased pacing, rocking, counting and staying awake until I absolutely have to go to sleep. Then when I’m sleeping I don’t want to wake up. These may not all be OCD issues. I just recognize these behaviors in myself.

It can sometimes take

The book has really helpful information but as I said, it’s triggering because it brings back unwanted memories of my mother and her extreme behavior.

I’m unaware of aunts having OCD. As far as I know it’s in the immediate bloodline. It goes from my mother to my sister and me. It’s as disruptive in my life as dissociation.

Art

The woman feels very judged and misunderstood.

The 12×9 collage is on heavy paper and includes words and phrases cut out and strategically placed. It’s a work in progress. I’ve got to figure out what to do with the background. I started this piece today. I hope to finish it and one other piece very soon. The below piece is called The Deluge. The eating disorder piece is called Dignity.

Faith

What Keeps Me Awake – Death and Dying

Posted on by Faith

I have more trust that tomorrow will come than I did six years ago, still I live as if I’m breaths away from dying. I feel overwhelmed with the idea of dying which makes me wonder what will happen to all my plants I’ve worked so hard to nurture? Who will take my frogs if I die? Will they appreciate small moments with aquatic frogs and cute poses by the tree frogs?

And Joe, who will care for Joe? He’s 14. I’m his second home. Being passed around can be difficult.

My CNA has covid and will be gone for a bit. I was with her a day before she tested positive. I’ve consistently tested negative, as well as no fever.

You know what’s funny? I’ve got a very nice fill in but she’s not up to par with my regular CNA. Despite calling her a psychopath lol, her standard of care is significantly higher than others; this, on top of taking the time to get to know me, makes her a really good CNA.

I like the person I have right now, the cat does, too, but would she ever take the time to get to know me and work with me long term? I wonder, if I had to get a new CNA will it be difficult again? I’ve come to understand how difficult my OCD can be to work with.

I wish my regular CNA had to experience two clients before returning to me. The feeling of not knowing what you’ve got till it’s gone, goes both ways.

She most certainly has OCD though it manifests itself differently. Somehow we work well together. We’ve even sit down and talk about the books I have on OCD.

There’s a Japanese artist named Yayoi Kusama whom I relate to very well. She’s got OCD and other issues but it’s her OCD that I relate to the most.

Yayoi shamelessly paints what she sees in her head, in bright colors.

She’s known for painting dots and pumpkins.

Yayoi helped me let go of shame concerning how I express chatter in art form.

I scribble and sketch in order to process the constant talking in my head and the oppressive amount of stimulation I feel.

I have quite a few pieces of chatter art. To me, my chatter art feels different from art that I call chaos in color because the chatter has very little focus, no space unfilled, no place to rest the eyes, yet a legitimate expression of art therapy.

Yayoi spoke of feeling like the “modern day Alice in Wonderland.” I can’t count the amount of times I’ve called myself the Black Alice in Wonderland.

It feels good knowing my art has a place out here and that I don’t have to feel crazy about it. It’s ok to identify with Alice and Wonderland. It’s ok to let the art simply be a copy of inside my head, and to do so in emotive fashion.

Recently I’ve been using alcohol ink. It works well for what I’m trying express, and they travel well.

The artwork above is a combination of acrylic paint, neon acrylic paint, alcohol ink, black ink, gesso, paper.

I love how Yayoi prefers paper, too. I’m strongly considering writing to the 94 year old artist way over in Japan. She’s made a deep impression on me.

It’s encouraged when I find female artists like Yayoi and Freda Kahlo who by example, give my art legitimacy.

Tonight. I’m not sure why I’m overly stimulated. Concerns with death are extreme. Thank goodness I have plenty of art supplies.

Faith

A History of Eyes on Me

Posted on by Faith

Content: Abuse. Being watched by abusers. Sadism.

Publishing this art piece comes at an odd time seeing as how I just talked about store workers profiling and following me and my caregiver at the store. It’s also not concerning imaginary audience / fable but an all together different type of being watched.

I was never sure why my mother was watching me. I was more concerned by her method of watching me. Although I know she watched me and my sister around the second grade, my most vivid memories are the 4th grade when she wore her trench coat and stood behind the door motionlessly.

The coat was her regular coat. It was a black trench coat. When the lights were out we couldn’t see her, nor were we looking for her. But if we saw a motionless figure in the hallway it scared the crap out of us. She’d make sure we’d seen her before walking away. No words. Just walks away.

After a little while I worked hard not to show I was afraid. I’d either say nothing or turn around to the door and say something to her. I had to guage how far I could go in pretending she didn’t scare me. I knew there was a response she was looking for. If I withheld that response too much, I might regret it. When being beaten with a dowel rod I knew I had to give the response she was looking for.

"She speaks the dream" - available

When being watched in the room alone, when showering or using the restroom there was a response she was looking for. I always wondered if there were times she wasn’t trying to get caught and see my reaction. This game of watching went on all the way to the day before I moved out. She listened to phone calls when we had a corded phone. I owned nothing, especially my body.

When I moved to Florida with my mother’s sister, my cousin and an uncle by marriage, I thought life was going to be good. He said he would treat me like his own daughter. That one sentence makes me want to break into tears. The irony of it is cruel.

Roses for Jane - available

My cousin was his step daughter. She endured more abuse than me. Having me dress up. Making crude comments. Watching me. If I turned around and saw him watching through the cracked door, he too would stay just a few seconds longer before quietly leaving.

I’ll be keeping A History of Eyes on Me a little while longer. It’s hanging in my own art area beside the painting She Speaks the Dream, which was created in 2017.

Observations – The painting called Roses for Jane was remade. In addition to more eyes, I brought out the figure in the back then made a dramatic leap by dividing the main figure in black and white. I kept quite a bit of the original twist and turns while softening her face by one notch. As a person who uses sunflowers for emotional expressions, it interests me that not a single flower is on the original piece or the new. The main figure is no longer standing in the dark.

Thank you for coming to Sundrip today.

Faith

You’re Strength Painting. Next Year’s Art Goals.

Posted on by Faith

It took a month instead of two weeks to complete the painting of sunflowers with the Scripture. When the painting was picked up she ordered one for herself. The other person who saw it ordered one. I’ll be doing them on paper. I seriously do not enjoy canvas.

One of my art goals for next year is to increase the amount of art that’s based on Scripture.

I also like the idea of painting my cat, but I’m pretty bad at animals. Maybe I’ll just keep photographing him.

Michael Joseph Austin aka Joe Schmoe, is going to be 15 next year. Honestly, it kind of scares me because I worry about losing him. It’s been 2 years since he had a stroke. His eyesight was affected, other than that he’s the same cat.

There are three goals for the next creative year 🙂

  • Scripture based art.
  • Painting cats in an outsider art kind of way.
  • Paint butterflies in outsider art kinda way.

I’ve joined a group about butterflies and have seen some absolutely amazing creations. I have to paint them! I’ve also got a book I was given by a good friend.

Those are my new year’s goals.

Gratitude List

  • I’m entirely moved by the varied designs, textures and vivid colors of butterflies.
  • Cookies. Above any other flavor, I love big sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles. A friend brings them sometimes.
  • I enjoy trying new things. My CNA and I laughed so hard at how bad bison steak is. So, so nasty! The texture and taste is a catastrophic collision that may have killed taste buds. Just wow lol. I’m grateful for the ability to laugh and still appreciate the experience due to the laughter, and I’m looking forward to trying other new things. 🙂

Faith