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Rabbit Moon is my last painting of 2025. It is a reworked version of a painting I started at the beginning of the year, and I thought it was an appropriate way to end an old cycle and begin a new one.


As I look back on 2025, I am grateful for the growth it brought - mostly in the form of accepting who I am instead of who I "should" be. Accepting where I am in my spiritual and physical journey. Learning to lean into my own truth and shedding the fear of disappointing others.


As this new year begins, I am celebrating the cycles of nature: darkness gives way to light, light gives way to darkness. Seeds incubate in the dark, then grow toward the light, bud, bloom and fade, to create a new seed and the cycle repeats.


As humans, I believe we are hard-wired to look for patterns and to attach meaning to the patterns. We try to get an intellectual lock on something that is vast and boundless, far more than the rational mind can grasp. We make up stories/myths that can help us understand what we can't comprehend but then become stuck in the myth instead of using it as a springboard to greater awareness.


My focus this year will be in expanding my awareness and continue on the path to greater connection and authenticity through my art. It is as much a spiritual journey as it is and artistic one. I am so grateful to have you walk with me on this part of my journey.


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"White rabbits can symbolize spiritual rebirth and the shedding of old habits or emotional baggage. The white coat also speaks to the idea of adaptability to changing circumstances, reminding us to remain flexible and open to transformation when life's seasons change.


White rabbits are often associated with the moon, a symbol of intuition, mystery, and feminine energy. In some cultures, like Chinese mythology, rabbits live on the moon, crafting elixirs of immortality. Spotting a white rabbit might invite you to connect with your softer, intuitive side.


Like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, a white rabbit can symbolize a guide leading you into uncharted territory. It might appear when you're on the verge of a spiritual awakening or facing a leap of faith into the unknown."

- 15 Spiritual Meanings of the White Rabbit: A Journey Through Symbolism - Wisdom Of The Spirit



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with Gratitude,


Kate

"In the most ordinary terms, egolessness is a flexible identity. It manifests as inquisitiveness, as adaptability, as humor, as playfulness. It is our capacity to relax with not knowing, not figuring everything out, with not being at all sure who we are, or who anyone else is, either." - Pema Chodron

Like the owl, crows and ravens hold a special place in my heart and soul. As a young girl, I spent hours and hours alone in the deep woods surrounding our home. I was never afraid there, for the crows and ravens kept guard over me; their conversational caws to each other let me know all was well.  Today's painting is really interesting to me, and I wish I had video to show you of where it started and how it got here. The only thing I knew before beginning was that it would be a 6x6, and I was going to work with a modified version of Zoltan Zorn's palette (I used payne's gray, cadmium red light, yellow ochre and white.  Near the end I added a touch of pthalo blue). Pema Chodron's explanation about egolessness is a good way to describe how painting happens when I am in a "flow state".   Even when the imagery showed up, this piece is more like a poem that is razor sharp in its meaning but wholly ambiguous in its expression. 

"I can see clearly now the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way.  Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day!" - Johnny Nash

I woke up this morning to a bright sun and not a cloud in the sky (at least not from my vantage point).  Despite all that is going on in the world, I felt a keen sense of hope for our future. Perhaps, as Pema Chodron says, “You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.” 

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” ― Pema Chödrön

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”― Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles"

Today's painting is perhaps fortuitous, being the first day of my 2023 Gratitude Project. When this powerful little painting showed up this morning, bold with it's red background and face forward stance, I knew it was an auspicious sign. It got me thinking about how little things can be powerful.  So many times we wonder what one person can do to make a difference.  One person multiplied by 10, 100, 1,000, 1,000,ooo.... each standing together, like a mighty herd of bison.  

I was looking up the saying, "our strength lies in our diversity" and came across an article on the Federalist Society's website, which was titled "Diversity is Not Our Strength". Now admittedly, I had never before gone on this website before - not my cup of tea so to speak - but I felt like, in order to walk the talk of an open mind, I would consider their point of view. Basically the concept is that we (as a country) are stronger if we have a common vision, character and "moral fiber". Hard to disagree with that - but then, as you read further, it becomes apparent that the author believes this can only be accomplished if we are all alike in other ways; ancestry, religion, sexual preference and identity, culture... All things with which I vehemently disagree. As I look around in nature, I see diversity - in types of insects, birds, mammals, trees, plants, topography, climate - all balanced together, all needing something that the other has - symbiotic. As I look around at human community, it seems to me diversity helps keep us strong. If we were all the same, some of our basic needs would not be met. We need artists, musicians, laborers, scientists, explorers and those who keep the homefires burning. We need hunters and gatherers. We need shamans and healers. We need different perspectives and abilities. 


Farmers know they have to rotate crops to keep from depleting the soil. They know to plant different varieties of crop in case a blight takes out one variety. Breeders know that you have to bring in different lines to make the breed stronger. 


The one thing I do agree with though - that as a citizens of our country, we should agree on the concept of freedom. Which doesn't mean everyone is free to do whatever they want. Individual freedom (rights) end where they infringe on someone else's freedom (rights). Fortunately, or unfortunately, that line is not easily agreed upon. 

"Be the silent watcher of your thoughts and behavior. You are beneath the thinker. You are the stillness beneath the mental noise. You are the love and joy beneath the pain." - Eckhart Tolle

This painting was a great teacher. I started it in the fall of 2020. I wanted to revisit the way I used to paint in oils and see if I could combine that with my more intuitive/abstract approach. (Usually, I start with an abstract painting, and let the image present itself, then add in drawing if needed to bring the image out.)  So I started with the drawing and I wasn't liking the result. Too stiff. The deer seemed separate from it's environment. But there was something there, something like a memory, or a dream that you can't quite remember.  So set it against the wall in my studio and lived with it for well over a year. Every once and awhile I'd set it back on my easel, thinking I would work on it.

And  a funny thing happened. The deer seemed to talk to me. She implored me to keep my distance, to move slowly, to stay quiet. "Have Patience," was the signal I received; though faint, I heard it. I have to admit, I am not a very patient person, either by nature or by nurture. I have a tendency to want to Get Things Done. To check them off my list. "Finish painting" was on my list. But I resisted the urge to Just Try Something And Get 'Er Done! Instead, I shut up and listened to the wisdom of her quiet gaze. In the stillness I found solace. I couldn't rush. If I rushed, she would feel too much pressure and would bound away, and I was determined to get to know her on her own terms.

And then a few days ago, she beckoned me. I put her on the easel and she was relaxed. Setting up my palette didn't worry her. She let me walk right up to her and work around her with my brush. Every once in a while I would brush over her edges, each brush stroke relaxed her more until I was tickling her belly and caressing her ears. As I painted, moving over her body with quiet confidence, keeping my mind silent and my eyes soft, she joined up with me and the separation between us blurred. And then, I knew, and I stepped away and we both stood still for a long time, just watching each other, listening to the soft rustle of leaves, the distant birdsong, the hum of bees collecting pollen. And in that moment I remembered our meeting a long time ago on the edge of a woods. We connected then, and again now.

This week I’ve been painting pretty dark, odd things, while also playing around with new ideas and techniques.  And also some “back to basics” color charts.  I feel like I am on the cusp of something, and when that happens it is somewhat frustrating – because what worked before isn’t working for me now – but also exciting, because it’s new territory, deeper work, a little (ok, a LOT) scary.  I have to put aside my tendency to want to rush to the finish line and just enjoy the process. Not easy for a somewhat driven person like myself. But I will say that this week in the studio I have made a conscious effort to just let go and follow my heart and stop worrying about supplying the galleries and will this new work sell and is it even any good. 

A post on Facebook by a sculptor friend of mine really hit home to me.  In it he talked about a failed patina.  But it was so much more than the patina didn't turn out as he had wished (and, not knowing much about patinas, I don't know if it is something you can remove and start over, or if the pieces are absolutely ruined.) But what hit me was his reference to the "rush" and "push" that happens at one time or another (and most likely several times) to artists who are actively selling their work through commissions and/or galleries.  Creativity is not something you can turn on and off like a light switch. It is more than "thinking up" new ideas.  It is a process in which stagnation is a death knoll; as artists we are constantly striving to do better, dig deeper and evolve our work. 

And then there's the part about life...most of us don't have the luxury of not having to worry about money, or family issues, or our own physical or mental issues, or all the things happening in the world.  Our lives, and the art we make, cannot be separated - nor should it. Art, in its myriad forms, is an expression of who we are, and that expression, if it is to be honest and true, must include all aspects of our selves. The good, the bad, and the ugly.  That pure, complete expression leaves us vulnerable; it exposes our weaknesses, our flaws, our insecurities - all the parts we try to mask in polite society.  But it is exactly that part - even more so than the parts we show, the parts we are comfortable with, the parts that we deem "acceptable" - that part, which some call the shadow self, needs to have a seat at the table and a voice in the choir. 

But when we are pushing and rushing, trying to make something happen, trying to meet a goal, trying to be "done" with a piece so we can move on to the next, the work suffers.  It becomes contrived and superficial, and it lacks the spark, the gut punch, the raw emotion that makes a piece exceptional.  Sometimes we have to know when to set something aside and work on it later.

In a recent social media post, I showed a picture taken of my studio, and I had a dozen or more paintings hanging on the walls in what I phrased "various stages of doneness."  This is how I tend to work: I start a lot of paintings and get them to a point where I am stuck. I don't know what to do next - which is an uncomfortable and soul sucking place to be. It is where all my demons - my shadow selves - conspire to convince me that I don't know WTF I am doing, that I should hang it up, that I should, as my sculptor friend (remember him? That's what started this post...) said, " Having one of those days where I want to throw my entire body of work in the nearest lake, then drive up to the top of Tava, lay down in the snow until I feel warm and sleepy..."

The one saving grace is the little voice that tells me, "just start another. And another. And another. At some point something will click, and you will know what to do with all the others."  It's part of my process, the part I hate, because it is uncomfortable and triggers every insecurity I have about myself as an artist. But it is the only way through. Because instead of relying on what worked before, I have to experiment and try something new. That's what keeps the work fresh and edgy, and keeps me excited and motivated. And when this happens I am on top of the world in my studio.  

Without the darkness, there is no light.

Speaking with my oldest granddaughter, who is currently incarcerated, is painful. She is there because of behavior caused by mental illness. She shouldn't be in jail, but for reasons I won't go in to, she cannot live with her mother or me. I am the only person she has access to "on the outside."

She wants out, but there is no where for her to go. It is excruciating. My daughter and I have spent countless hours talking to different agencies and the courts and everyone says sorry but there is nothing they can do. Not enough funding. Not enough room. So we have made the painful choice to keep her locked up where she is relatively safe. Where she is forced to take her meds. Where she has a bed to sleep in and food to eat. Where she is getting at least some sort of counseling. But she has no freedom while she waits in the backed up judicial system to undergo competency testing before she can be sentenced.

And so I find myself wrestling with a moral issue. She is like the caged bird who has the desire to leave it's prison and fly but has none of the skills needed to find food and shelter or to stay safe from predators, and none of the social skills needed to coexist with other birds. I have the power to either open that cage door, knowing full well that there is an overwhelming chance she will not be able to comply with the terms of her release, that she will end up in a worse spot than she is in now - or to watch her thrash against the bars in an attempt to escape or die trying.

I wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, praying for guidance.

And paintings like this emerge from a sleep deprived subconscious.

My heart pounds now as I prepare to hit send. What will you think? Is it Too Much Information? Perhaps for some. And yet, I feel like there needs to be a light shone on the darkness of mental illness. The quiet desperation families go through when they watch a loved one struggle and there is literally no real help out there. Our healthcare system is not structured to care for those who need lifetime support. For those not "fixed" by pharmaceuticals. For those who aren't able to modify their behavior by learning coping skills. For those who need months and years in a mental health hospital instead of days or weeks.  Our prisons are filled with mentally ill people who are being punished for being ill, because they have proven themselves to be a danger to themselves and others. 

Like so many things in our fractured, distracted society, the plight of the mentally ill is largely ignored, until we have a mass shooting. Then it becomes a political football, until the next thing comes along.

What is Fear? Rumi says that fear is "non-acceptance of uncertainty. If we accept that uncertainty, it becomes an adventure!"

With so much information, misinformation and disinformation swirling around the outbreak and response to Covid-19, it's no wonder some people may feel paralyzed with fear.  From fears of getting sick, or someone we love getting sick, to fears of losing jobs, businesses, houses...we may find ourselves in a state of perpetual anxiety.  But it doesn't take a pandemic for fear to take hold. Even in the best of times, fear can take hold.  How many times have we turned down opportunity for fear of failure? Or held on to something (or someone) for fear of the unknown? How many times have we not spoken up for fear of conflict? Or not listened to another point of view for fear we may be wrong?

Joseph Campbell, philosopher and author, suggested that mythic symbols like the horse have many meanings and that the use of such mythological symbols in art connects viewers with images from their own dreams and waking life. In my art, I often use the horse as a metaphor - both for fear and for boldness. That's why I love the quote by Rumi...we can change our story and use times of uncertainty as a catalyst to move forward into adventure. 

I am inspired by my mare, Stormi, who learned at an early age that electric fencing hurts the same whether you go backwards or press forward. She always chooses forward to the greener grass.

"The color of Spring is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination." - Terri Guillemets

Being in semi-quarantine is giving me lots of time in my home studio, and while I find that much of what I'm painting is more somber in tone, this piece reminds me that there is always a bright side to every situation.  Like many of you, I am struggling to find a balance between being informed and trying to keep normalized.  At first I was watching WAY too much news...plus I was constantly on Facebook, reading the latest stats, critiques, opinions...until my head hurt. 

In the past week or so, I have limited my Facebook time, and only watch the evening news. I've started making sure I get outside everyday - walking in my neighborhood, listening to the birds sing their love for each other, watching the wind run its fingers through the prairie grasses, and the clouds making playful shapes in the sky.  These things remind me that no matter how bad it gets, this too shall pass.