I took my original charcoal piece and painted over it; then I washed it clean with water and paper towel; then I outlined all the shapes I could still see with marker; then I rubbed on different watercolor paints.
The original was all abstract except for the face in the center. And likely I drew the hearts consciously. When I look at the charcoal photo, I see Jesus above me and his hands (left of me) wrapping around. I see a Holy Spirit above, hovering to the right.
I’m a bit sad I painted over the charcoal, but the experience was interesting.
Apparently I love turtles and fish and crosses.
This might be a worthwhile project for someone who wants to take a peek at their subconscious. If you do this, I’d love to see your final image. I thought of this idea on my own, through trial and error.
1) Purchase Canvas, watercolor (tubes), permanent marker, brush, and charcoal
2) Draw random lines and doodles with charcoal (one hour)
3) Paint over with multiple watercolors (one hour)
4) Rub off most with wet paper towel (five minutes)
5) Outline all in permanent marker(one hour)
6) Paint sections and smear with paper towel (half hour)
Ten Parts
I have ten parts to my heart
Ten parts that you take
Ten parts that you watch for
Ten parts where I ache
The runner is heavy, her breath out of wind
You take her up gently, and lift her to end
The mistress is surly, and tangled a lot
You take her in softly, untie all the knots
The witness is worried, her song out of reach
You take her beside you, the music you teach
The loner is hope-drained, her view rather bleak
You take her hand kindly, and starlight you seek
The lover is awe-struck, her emptiness grows
You take her eyes to you, and mend all her woes
The child is spinning, her thoughts moving swift
You take her mind off things, and offer a lift
The seeker is weary, so much truth to be found
You take her ear tender, and whisper no sound
The actor is drowning, she’s pretending to be
You take her dreams with you, and set them all free
The poet is hiding, her heart severed in two
You take in her pieces, and make her anew
The angel is crying, her fears come again
You take her pain to you, and call her dear friend
Without my husband I would not be able to dedicated time to my painting, writing, and healing of body, mind, and spirit.
I can spend all day in creation and not do one thing around the house, in regards to cleaning and cooking, and my husband does not complain. He picks up where I left off. He does the dishes, the laundry, shampoos the carpets, and even makes dinner sometimes.
He is so loving to me and a true giver. He expects nothing from me in return.
He has a heart of gold and an amazing mind and spirit. He is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, with the ability to transition and grow, and to look at his own personal journey and challenges.
He is never conceded and never cruel.
He accepts me unconditionally in all my moods and emotions. He respects my need for space and my tendency to retreat into my own world. He patiently awaits my return.
He holds me when I cry and laughs at my quirks. He reads my blog posts daily, always ready with a compliment or reassurance.
He helps me to see my light and beauty. He tells me I am a genius, that I have the kindest heart of anyone he knows, that I am loving and a good mom, and that I am gorgeous and sexy. He tells me all of his dreams have come true.
My husband is my rock, my knight sent down to protect me. a radiant and dashing earth angel.
I take comfort in his continued dedication and efforts to be the best man he can be.
Without him, I know I wouldn’t be doing my works, I wouldn’t have the time or strength to connect with others. He has provided me with the necessary tools to fulfill my life’s calling and dreams. He has given me the freedom to be myself and to flourish. In return, I accept him unconditionally and cherish him as my dearest friend.
Thank you Dear One for the gift of YOU!
If you’d like to leave a comment: “Thank you Bob!” is a good one.
Post 282 (2= union 8= infinity)
This is a process I went through to paint my concept of love and angels. The first layer of “The Union” includes the green of healing and speaking my truth from the throat chakra. It also represents the breaking down of energetic blockages and releasing the free-flowing energy within me; the blue represents my angels; the yellow my light and the universal light of love. I created this first layer and then continued to create the final piece.
First Layer
This is the final piece, where I have blended all the elements of free-flowing energy, connection, angels, and the light of love.
The Union by Samantha Craft
Here is an emotional process I went through during the past three days. The first represents the darkness and inner angst. The second a layering over the darkness, a release of chaos, a freeing of self. The third, the final composition: The Birth of Light.
Layer One: The darkness
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Layer two: The chaos and release….freedom awaken
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Birth of Light
Art Therapy has been a wonderful avenue to release much of the inner passion and emotion burning inside of me. I continue to feel light, love and glowing. Even in times of my greatest sorrow, when I am sobbing to my angels, I feel loved, centered, and right where I am meant to be. Once again, this weekend, a person I haven’t seen in a long while said to me, “Wow. What has happened to you? You are glowing!” She was giggling and kept repeating the words. I am continually reminded of my transition and reaping the benefits of my hard soul work. I am both encouraged and excited for the days ahead. While I still have brief moments of fear and doubt, they are quickly diminished by thoughts of my angels, the light, and all of you. You are my earth angels, and continue to set me free each day. Thank you and Bless You.
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A special thank you to my friend Lisa for encouraging me to paint and for my friend Amy for opening up my eyes to the gifts before me.
I like goals. I like plans that have an end result.
Painting or any art, is VERY HARD for me to do.
This morning I had so much angst, and I needed to release it.
I took out this canvas and oil paints. And had at it. I don’t even have paint brush cleaner, yet. Oil paints do not dissolve in water, I learned.
I blasted music from August Rush. I squirted tubes of paint, used assorted brushes, and made quite a mess of red on my sleeve. It symbolized the blood of my tears, I figure.
The first hour of painting was all confusion, worry about end product, about not being good enough.
I started putting that frustration into the painting itself—layers upon layers of personal angst atop painting angst, along with many other emotions.
I slowly started to let myself be. It was liberating, though still very uncomfortable.
By the end of the second hour, I said what the heck, and let loose.
I am hoping to continue to paint some more pieces and release a new part of myself onto canvas.
Painting isn’t as comforting to me as words and writing are, and isn’t what I would consider my “gift” or “skill.”
But that is the entire point for me: to explore something without trying to perfect, prove, teach, show, or learn.
To do something without an end goal or audience in mind.
I like to step away from the painting and look at it from far away.
Everyday Asperger's 