How do you appease stress levels?

There're days when you sit in front of a computer, trying to get things done quickly, before the kids are back, and all you get is a compounding headache.

You get so overwhelmed with the noise of it all, with the distractions of the outside world. In these moments I get an almost animal longing to head into the studio. My body knows that it needs to step away, to let my mind rest, to let that other part of the brain take over.

I feel like I'm fleeing this daily routine on wings, propelling me to pour all my frustrations onto canvas. On these days I know my time in the studio will be very special. It's when my inner voice will rejoice, take control, lead me places. I know that if I don't go this almost physical pain of withdrawal will make me even crazier. It will make me stir-crazy, irritable, impatient with everyone around me.

Even my dear husband knows at those moments that I am dying on the inside from that feeling of overwhelm, and he knows that he needs to let me be, to let me go.

Do you have too many loud conversations?

I watched a podcast by an artist not too long ago, Nicholas Wilton, where he spoke about the importance of value in each painting. There was one phrase in that talk that really struck a chord with me. It went something like this: "You can have multiple conversations within each painting. They just can't all be loud." This rang true to me on so many levels.

There should always be something in one's life that is of utmost importance, a main theme. You can have sub-themes, lots of them: your job, your daily routines, what have you. But there's always one thing that is overarching and no, it's not your family. It's you: your sanity, your balance. If I don't take care of me, then I'm no good to my family. I'm slowly realizing how important and difficult this feat is - to think of me first...kind of like when they tell you to put an oxygen mask on yourself first in an event of an emergency.

I wanted contrast in this work but I also thought that light was truly key - that was the main idea. It's about gates into the bright void, a hopeful future after the passing of winter. It wants to be bright and airy, abstract, full of possibility. Did it succeed?

I would love this clarity of value to translate to my book as well. Currently it's full of parent/child traumas, romance struggles, work issues. But it needs to be about art, about how it weaves through this life and helps solve all these dilemmas, large and small. All of these other conversations can be subdued, toned down. I'm almost done dumping all my ideas and am about to move into the first edit stage. I can't wait to start sharing it with the world!

If you'd like to be part of my inner circle and start getting more glimpses into the book, as well as 20% off your first piece, I invite you to join my insider's list at http://www.dianastelin.com/jointhemeltingcrew.php 

Do we need to let it go in order to succeed?

I think this is a good ending point for the book. I'm done with about half of it by now and am thinking more and more about the main theme, and the sub-themes.

My drips are for emptiness. They’re an antidote to the busy world I try to populate in each new piece. They create the much needed reprieve from the craziness. They introduce abstraction, they move me from my regular status quo. 

They’re an answer to my traditional upbringing, to my fears of rejecting the mold, of letting go. If I completely give into them, they will be me letting go completely. 

But I can’t give up the line. Its piercing musicality is very important to me, its contrast is absolutely key. I don’t know if I figured out form yet, but the line is certainly there to stay. I still can’t tell which forms speak to me and which I’m able to forego. Is it a triangle shape or a semi-circle that is my favorite? A combo of various sized cubes? Do I absolutely need a horizon line? I’ve already gathered that less is more when it comes to color: maximum of two different juxtapositions plus an accent color. But I don’t want to stick to the same palette, do I? I know I need to break it down to get to complete abstraction, which would mean something to me. But how? And do I need to get to abstraction? Maybe this is a constant conversation - a chat between inner and outer reality, between abstract thoughts and practical sides of me?

The real secret behind my most popular series

 Want me to tell you a little secret? That first series of oils that everyone loves so much - there's a lot more to it than meets the eye. I've already told you that it was all created within one summer, after my return from studying abroad in Paris.

I was in an awful withdrawal state and Andrey Tamarchenko, my teacher, saved me by giving me this magic space, in which I could create. It was a tiny room on the last floor of an abandoned factory building, overlooking the Garden State parkway. A series of gated doors, freight elevators, and somewhat frightening corridors brought me to this little paradise where I could just play.

But that wasn't all. Over that summer I reacquainted myself with my very first crush. Apparently, he came over from Russia every summer and lived in South Jersey with his father's new family. A crazy romance sparked up between us and he would visit me in this little studio and watch me paint. We would slip onto the roof of this abandoned factory, which was just a hop over my window sill, and make love on the roof, with the highway sprawling underneath.

I think you can feel this euthoria in the paintings from this series. There's a hint of danger, secrecy, yet a dare to enter this innocent paradise. To this day, every time I paint, I think back on those days with a certain nostalgia that my whole body can feel. I'm taken back to my daring self, a soul completely open to the world and its possibilities.

My painting practice gives me hope there're a lot more opportunities in this world. It allows me to re-enter my childhood, my adolescence, my college years, and connect them to me today.

This groundbreaking series that was featured in Ithaca's Johnson Museum is housed right here: Archive

Take a look. Perhaps something in it will bring back nostalgic memories for you as well, and would be a nice treat for yourself for the New Year!

If you're in Massachusetts, I'm happy to come over and test out a few things on your walls, tying in my expertise as a long time art consultant. We can see what would work best with the rest of your decor and other art you have in your home. Happy Holidays!!

Love,

D

Why your inner voice matters most - article on inspiremetoday.com

Long ago I was given the privilege of access to my inner voice through painting. I managed to survive high school and college by practicing this precious gift. Yet, when real life hit, I became afraid of losing myself in my dream world and let it go. I took a more practical route. I needed to make money and start a family, and be an overall reasonable person.

However, it hit me with time that a huge part of me was dying little by little. It felt like I was blindfolded while walking through the dilemmas of this world, and instead of developing my best self, I was selling my soul to the devil. That child within me had no way out. It was imprisoned, dying of thirst for a connection.

When things got really bad and I was crying nightly about a miscarriage, about lost opportunities in my career, about my life that was going nowhere, I took a three-day painting workshop and realized that I almost killed this little beautiful child inside me, my real me, my true self. I began devoting more and more time to painting and to re-connecting with this fragile voice.

I had noticed with time, as my practice got more and more constant, that this voice does not push. It guides gently. It assures me in my abilities. It builds out the inner strength that I never knew I had.

If I die today, I would be forever grateful to this voice of intuition that I was able to utilize. I so hope that more and more people find their true voice by doing something for their soul, be it meditation or yoga, dance or painting, making music or playing with yarn.

I inevitably come out of my painting sessions with an ‘aha’ moment, a solution to a real-life problem that has been nagging me for a long time. Somehow, whatever issues I resolve on canvas have their roots in the psychology of life. It’s quite remarkable that the little inner voice only comes out during painting but I’m so grateful that it does. I really wish for more of us to connect to their true selves, to find our humanity.

Is Social Media Killing Our Self Worth?

My time in the studio is the time when I get away from the world, relax into my inner self and discover things within my psyche. Yet, here I am, working away and hoping the door will open any second and someone will come in to ask what I'm working on, and perhaps praise it, or even offer some critique or a word of advice. I know I'm here for me, to pacify my worries, to take a break from the hassles of my world. Yet, I crave acceptance. I crave recognition. I really want someone to finally see that I have talent, someone from the art world to pick me up and take me places. Maybe that's just a natural human state, the one Dale Carnegie talked so much about? Our need for acceptance...

It's stifling though. It also got a hundred times worse with the need for instant gratification via social media. I skipped a week of painting. Yet, instead of yearning for that time alone with myself, all I kept thinking throughout this week was: "When I finally get to the studio, I need something truly powerful to show my Instagram followers and Facebook fans". Then, when the long-awaited time in the studio had arrived, I spent most of my time shooting videos of my process instead of really dissolving into it. I couldn't stop myself either even though I knew this was utterly wrong. It was almost like I was afraid to truly listen to my inner voice. Instead, I was drowning it with the desire to be seen and praised.

And then, when the likes and comments didn't come as fast as I wanted, I started to really doubt myself and my abilities. I took down the stage I most enjoyed because this lack of attention shamed me into hating my process. I almost wanted to bring the painting back to the stage when it was most liked by the viewers, but then I caught myself and decided that this is enough.

I need to cut out this destruction of my self-worth by avoiding my phone during my working time. I need a vacation from social media. At the end of the day, I'm doing this for my journey and I won't go anywhere unless I'm fully on board. If I continue down this road of adjusting my actions because of social media, my inner voice willalways be unheard by me, or worse it'll be shamed into silence because I'll only be focused on the approval by others. The only way to get away from this is to have a clean break. This is how I truly start doing things for me, for my growth: I stop caring...

Do you find yourself drowned by social media? Do you schedule time-outs? Are they week-long vacations? Or do you have periods during each day when you stay away?

How to not screw up your second marriage

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The most difficult stage in any relationship is adjusting what's already working, trying to make it more pronounced. You feel like you're walking on egg shells. At any moment this beautiful harmony of visions and relationships can snap. It's so crucial to refrain from passing any judgement during this arduous task. You want to turn your mind off and to just listen to that inner voice that can really guide you if you let it.

Only when a new pattern becomes clear, will your mind pacify, learn a new routine, begin its new training. The path should always stem from your heart, from finding your true priorities. You want to learn your weak sides where compromises won't work, and figure out where a shortcut is possible, where the other can lead.

This does not mean I'm done for good. One always tends to step into the same traps and it's a constant mindful decision to steer into a different direction. We will inevitably make mistakes. We will ruin a good thing time and again. I might add too much drama where there really isn't any place for it. You will need to learn to play with opposites, and learn to have empty space so we can just breathe.

However, the most important aspect of it all is to not judge any outcomes until we're finished working through the problem. Just go through the motions of the task without giving it much thought. Do not overthink anything! Trust that it will all come together in the end.

Yes, these are all tips on building a harmonious relationship. But guess what this manual of sorts actually pertains to?

This was me talking to myself while working on a third layer of a large scale painting. I was trying hard to pacify my alter-ego. If  I don't calm myself down during the painting process, I will give up and not get anything out of it. I want to get something out of this practice. If I keep up, I know that every single time I will come out of a painting session with an 'aha' moment. I will find an answer to an important question in my life.

During this go around I guess the universe wanted me to rethink the strengths and weaknesses of my relationship with my husband. We're going through a difficult phase: three kids under ten, my running a business. Plus all of a sudden I decided to actually start promoting my own art. There certainly are a lot of shifting priorities and my head feels like it's about to explode. My painting practice is my way to hold on, to think through the issues, to stay balanced...My writing about the process puts all kinds of things in perspective.

If you'd like to keep up with my analysis of life dilemmas through artmaking, I invite you to join me on this quest. While you're at it, feel free to check out my art and leave any feedback.
http://www.dianastelin.com/jointhemeltingcrew.php

Journey to a better you - Seven lessons to change your life (through notions of drips in painting)

What are my drips for? I never fail to see that everything I do while painting is a reflection of a real life question. Same with my beloved drips:

1. These are not random drips of diluted paint and turpentine. They aren't meant to suggest an unfinished draft, or something coming out of nothing....lesson learned: nothing you do should remain unfinished, nothing in this life is random.

2. These are deliberate divisions which step in towards the end of the process. They lay on top of four layers of paint, some partially hidden, others - uncovered to their core...lesson learned here: it's ok to be a mystery, and it's equally ok to let yourself be seen, to uncover the frail sides of you.

3. They are meant to create a grid, a helping aid in dividing various elements in one painting into sub-paintings, into mini compositions within a composition...Lesson learned: always focus on mini-issues in order to solve the big problems in your life.

4. They make your eyes focus on different areas one at a time, then leading your eyes to another drip outlined segment, and by their repetitiveness - the drips take you through the whole painting...Lesson here: all your problems are interconnected, solve one - and you might have an unusual solution to another.

5. They are abstract elements that I notice after I complete them because they frame each area into its own abstract painting....Lesson: focus your attention away from the problem and the answer might just come to you.

6. The lighter colored drips expand the light, the darker ones demonstrate the frailty of emotions. They are like musical notes, or hieroglyphs that with their presence lead to something deeper and more profound. You feel an inner voice that trembles when speaking, yet needs to be heard...A life lesson: Listen to your emotions, they lead you to your inner voice.

7. It's a way to reorganize set notions of a landscape, breaking it down, reconstructing its key areas of impact...The last lesson of today: it's your life - you control how you live it.

Isn't it fun to uncover life through painting?

How Kanye West changed my life

About ten years ago around Christmas time two fellows walked into a gallery I managed. Lots of Holiday fundraising teams have been walking around so I assumed they were another pair out on the street who were also curious about art in the window. I initially didn't even rush to get the sculpture out of our display case when asked about it by one of the guys.

I started my usual sales inquiry by asking the fellow who stepped forward: -'Are you involved in the arts?' -"Yes, but on the music side of things. I've always loved Jeff Koons though." Not knowing who was standing in front of me, I proceeded with -"Did you go to school to study art history? or fine art?". He replied with - "I dropped out, but always enjoyed Chicago art museums"...and so the conversation flowed. In the meantime, my sales associates laughed at my ignorance in the back room, knowing full well that I am perhaps making a fool of myself in front of Kanye. But this was a great, genuine exchange, and I even goofed on the spelling of his name when he gave me his direct e-mail address. His manager was a good sport keeping up the façade standing next to him. Our sales relationship lasted for over five years from that point onwards. I think it was all due to the fact that I didn't know that I was to treat him like a star. He was an authentic person, with interesting things to say, and pretty sophisticated art tastes to boot.

I think about my encounter with Kanye a lot now that I am dedicating myself to my own art more and more. It is so easy to get hung up on fame and lose your genuine self. He didn't.

You turn into an obsessive attention seeker and lose that energy that births stunning works. It's inevitable that recognition puts you into a certain role for which you get cast over and over again, with your style becoming boring, repetitive and trite. Your personality suffers. I didn't see any signs of fame shaping his interactions.

You overwork things hoping others will approve. You don't do art because you simply need to satisfy that voice that comes from within. And yet, everyone can still find their voice in relation to other voices. With focusing his attention on his varied interests, he did just that.

I also think of my role as a sales consultant in that particular scenario. It was that honest interest in who he was as a budding art collector that pushed me to be a natural saleswoman.I was someone whose stomach did not churn at the fear of rejection, or of being criticized or ridiculed. I wish I could wear that hat when I make and judge my own art. I wish I wouldn't be so alarmed at the contrasting statements I put out with my melted, scratched, layered world. Thank you, Kanye, for giving me some life long lessons that help keep me on track.

Do you see recurring symbols?

There're forms that want to come back time and again, symbols that allow me to uncover certain truths, highlight what hides beneath.

An arched stone bridge - what is the significance of its recurring draw for me? Is it the playful texture of the stones, with enigmatic treasures reflecting in the water below? Is it the contrast of manmade patterns, so carefully assembled, against the smooth reflections of the trees, their branches haphazardly yet gorgeously striking the void?

If I am indeed always painting how I feel about myself, then is it that struggle of contrasts that draws me in? To be agreeable, yet enigmatic, and ambitious but understood, daring, provocative but feminine, delicate, beautiful, balanced, in harmony? Yes, quite a few contradictions to stuff into one painting, with the hope that they will all be apparent to the viewer, that they will all be accepted. What if just some of them are apparent? Or what if the onlooker only sees what he/she wants to see, irrelevant of my struggles and intent?

These symbols which might mean one thing to me, and something entirely different to someone else, they're still elements of a pictorial language through which we communicate. And communication is never easy, even if we all speak the same tongue. We always miss nuances, refuse to see what's just below the surface. Do you see a woman hiding in this painting?

How to enter the 4th dimension!

What has this painting experience been about? It seemed like there was so much happening - different brushstrokes, painting with negative space, frustrations with the carrying out of the idea. Yet I think what kept creeping back is this search for a time warp.

I keep noticing that when I paint, I enter a timeless zone. The clock seems to stop. I accomplish so many transformations. A whole myriad of thoughts, directions, critiques are streaming through my mind. I look back and notice that only a half hour passed, or an hour, or I've been at it for three hours. I've managed to enter a fourth dimension - I'm in the past, and in the present, and in the future at the same time.

My painting practice beckons me to let go of everyday worries and step into a different space, a transformative experience where nothing else matters but my color mixing, final application and the movement of the composition. It is so tempting to get away from it all, to remain in solitude, in conversation only with my own thoughts. It's more addicting than any drug - this desire to understand the depths of me.

Do you ever want to turn into a tree?

What's the significance of a girl turning into a tree? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Why is it that every time she looks more human in this painting I get annoyed and every time she turns too unrecognizable I get equally frustrated?

If I am that girl - what am I gaining by this transformation? Is it oneness with nature, complete solitude from humankind, true expression? Why is it so scary? Is it because I'm losing myself: my softness, my uniqueness? I'm losing my limbs, my curviness, the features that make me - me. I have body sensations as a hand turns into a branch; it wants to unstick itself from this hardened mess. It feels as if I'm losing a battle to crazy glue... But then I'm gaining perpetuity, aren't I? No. Trees are as prone to dying, getting sick, suffering from cold and heat as we are, if not more.

So I'm sitting here marking pluses and minuses and figuring out which outweighs the other. But the main issue is that I'm still drawn to this idea, in love with this idea of a human turning into a tree. I even made a larger than life painting of Daphne in college that was stolen from the studio. What is there that keeps my attention? Perhaps this struggle I'm going through is actually my living through this transformation? In order to gain immortality of sorts you become hard-skinned, you lose bits of your genuine self. You don't know where to strike the balance.

I'd like to watch my kids quietly, yet be ready to step in at a moment's notice, not be paralyzed like a tree. This paralysis is really a paralysis of thought. I get stuck in this idea of fame, recognition, money making that I lose my genuine, original self. My limbs go one by one. Hands are so stuck in tree puss that they can no longer perform.

No, I want to be Daphne who hides in a shape of a tree, but not forever. She uses it as a temporary asylum but she's able to quietly come out of that masked existence and return to humanity. She should be able to do that. Trees are people that lost their way...

Let your inner child play as long as she wants

Reflecting on a memory of a real landscape brings so many questions. Even after I figured out the mood for the painting, and limited my palette accordingly, I was still struggling with just how precise this depiction needs to be. As much as I wanted to leave the reality of the scene, things like perspective, shapes and textures of specific subjects were forcing me to stop and reconsider my every move.

When does this adherence to reality take a break, and lets the imagination take over? How can I open a door to creativity if a constant logical critic sits on my shoulder and demands accuracy and academic realism? How did Kandinsky accomplish this feat? To have a landscape and to not have it at the same time? To let shapes, colors and lines take over the composition? To have a real scene turn mythical, become a dreamscape?

I guess a lot of it is a dance of inner voices, but in a dance there's always a leading partner. How can the lead shift to a more abstract thinking section of the brain? Perhaps these voices relinquish control and don't take turns? When there's a real marriage of color and line - the trick is to not turn on the switch back to observation, and to just let yourself sink into the simple pleasures of mixing colors, the way a little child would, for hours.Yes, that is it. Just like I force myself (not always successfully) to not interfere and let my children play their game of choice for as long as they need, I need to not rush my inner child, and let her play as long as she wants. Then just stop before judgment kicks back in.

Then the goal is to repeat this for every painting session...and for every child's invented game.

How important are your acquaintenance relationships?

As I embarked on the color theory journey along with my students, I feel that I'm getting lessons in subtlety. When you limit yourself to the very basic means, you only then start seeing nuances in relationships, in shades - those fifty shades of any color, in vibrancy, in temperature, and in transparency.

Everything doesn't need to be harsh, full of contrast, jarring in order to make an impact. Most of the time, the beauty lies in the subtle mixes of colors, and even more so in their transparent layers. An opaque layer covers all your tracks, all your moods of yesterday. While semi-opaque or translucent layers are able to neutralize if too much has been said, or add a little accent of focus.

All my life I've been searching for only the deepest relationships. It's all or nothing. You're not making it onto my friend list if we can't have the most intimate conversations. Mere acquaintances would stay by the wayside, as that's just what they were. I dismissed so many wonderful people because of this all or nothing approach. In reality, however, one can gain so much from even the smallest encounter with a stranger, or a mentor/student relationship, developing both ways. So much can be learnt from an inconsequential family visit, or a cocktail party conversation. Everything happens for a reason, and if you're only after the most idealistic statements, you miss the nuances, the everyday messages of life. I love this new bare essentials approach.

Everything needs its individual attention

The question of giving every student different treatment and a varied set of tasks based on his/her personality has been haunting me for a while. Time and time again I see that inevitably one or two students in each class need a lot more time on each project than others. I feel awful hurrying them along, as typically these are the students who truly pay attention to details, are quite the perfectionists and want every one of their pieces to truly become a work of art. But then what do I do with the rest of the group? I can't constantly split up, on occasion into three separate corners - where each student is doing something different based on his/her skill set and interests. It makes me crazy, I'm feeling like my head is about to explode in all these different directions.

This painting has been attempting to give me answers to that question. I went into it with my typical expressive approach, covering the canvas at once with slashes of my favorite palette knife. It all somewhat worked, but all the elements seemed to lack their own personality. And it occurred to me that I can't treat the surface of the water in a completely identical way in which I'm handling the tree growth, or the clouds floating along. They each move in their separate way: trees reaching up, clouds circling along, water drifting in horizontal lines. I need to copy their movement with my lines, being mindful of each and every personality, so that it could be a valid form in the composition, so that all these actors can have a dialogue with each other.

And yet, these are all parts of one whole painting, and all these personalities have to coexist in it. Trees and sky reflect in the water, merging and balancing out colors, shapes and lines of the final piece. It's just like all people ultimately coexist in one society, somehow learning along the way their ways to cope with that society's demands. So then even though a conversation with each student can be slightly different - should my final goal be to teach them integration into their group? That would ultimately give them an important life lesson, correct?

What it feels like to paint full time

 What is different about taking myself seriously, calling myself an artist and painting almost every day? For starters, the process is a lot faster, both for getting initial inspiration, as well as the development of the piece.


It hits me, this energy that makes my fingers twitch in anticipation, like a little child's, even at the point of getting into the car and heading to the studio. The hand attaches itself to the palette knife immediately and is being led somewhere instantaneously. It feels like you never left and you simply start where your conversation with the painting ended the day before.

I am absolutely wiped out at the end of each session and I don't get the weekly insights into my inner psyche like I used to. It's a job, a demanding process that requires intense concentration, and listening to an inner voice, following what it says, despite hunger, bathroom needs, fears being pointed out constantly by my alter ego of my inadequacy, lack of time, lack of focus, etc.

And at the end it turns into a lesson in trusting yourself and your intuition when perhaps just an hour ago you stumbled in that ability in everyday life. I am so thankful to AOTA art for giving me that chance to discover what it means to be a true artist. The paintings in this post are the three large scale paintings that were chosen for Chestnut Hill's Art in the Square exhibit.

Painting is my process of empowerment

A great article in the Free Daily Press has just been published with my thoughts on what painting means to me, and what it means for me to be empowered. I never gave it much thought before I was given an opportunity to participate in this one of a kind outdoor public exhibit in Newton at Chestnut Hill Square. Please do go see it before it closes on October 17th. Here're some sneak peek photos from the opening event. Photos courtesy of Mark Wilson Images.

 

Never rush to please the crowds

A more beautiful twin trying to please the crowds - this trite phenomenon played out with this poor baby.

It was stunning from birth. I couldn't take my eyes off it and didn't quite know whether I should touch it too much in fear of ruining it. And then, right before a scheduled exhibition, this awful need to impress took over me and in a course of an hour I worked it to such a degree that it could no longer be part of the exhibit. No one noticed its absence of course, but I did. It brought me to thinking back on why I ran from the gallery world, about how I missed standing in front of the canvas and simply enjoying my process of a conversation with self. Somehow I lost track of why I paint in the first place. These attempts to get recognized, to be an official artist, to earn money as one - turned me into an obsessive attention seeker.

The adult students' behavior at the show was yet another example of simply knowing what you need as a person. It isn't laurels and clients. It's knowing that your creative energy birthed these stunning works - that's all. That's what it's about. The simplest lesson of all - do something because you need to do it, not for the sake of others' approval.

This piece is titled 'Adam and Eve'. It's been sensual, sexual, haunting and brilliant in giving me this simple truth. The bonus is that you can't ever completely destroy anything - you simply return another day and fix it, or it fixes itself...

Making the case for mindfulness therapy

It was certainly a call for action that I had caught this program not once but twice on NPR, an analysis of various mental therapy options out there today, which was absolutely fascinating. It described the old Freudian ways, the movement in the 80's stemming from Beck's automatic thought theory, and lastly went on to talk about a 'New Age' wave or 'Mindfulness therapy' movement that is becoming prevalent today around US.

Essentially, 'Mindfulness therapy' acts like a meditation away from your gnawing problems and thoughts. There was an excellent analogy there when someone stuck a book in front of their face, obstructing his vision. He obviously couldn't focus on the book because it was covering his eyes. When he put a book on his lap where he got some distance, it was in his peripheral vision, and only then he could get a clearer way to read it.

A process of painting (or dance, or making music, or yoga, meditation, etc.) is that form of mindfulness therapy. You force yourself to concentrate on your project at hand so hard that your everyday worries are at least resting for a bit.

I accidentally attempted this process in my own latest painting. I worked on melting a certain part of my canvas but then moved my eyes and started thinking about another section, completely losing myself in new ideas. Meanwhile, the old area now in my peripheral vision kept changing, without my stressing over its completion. No matter how hard I tried to bring myself to focus on one square at a time, my eyes and thoughts would wander around the whole surface. I then decided to just take that process as a given and was able to multitask. I mixed new colors while melting a certain area, allowing the canvas to essentially work itself out. It's a truly magical painting that came as a result, because it didn't require my constant attention.

Meanwhile, my adult classes inadvertently shaped two separate life changing situations. Yes, mindfulness therapy does wonders for your brain!

How we all need a breather once in a while

Yet again an act of painting acting as life coach. I've been following my own mantra while painting - striving for balance of color and line throughout, the lights and darks, the thin and thick. It was all moving along just fine but it was somehow off.

Only six or seven hours into it, nearing the end of my energy reserve - it hit me. The painting was too cluttered. I piled up too many things into this one creation and each area was fighting for attention, unable to sit still.  I wasn't letting it breathe. I was pushing and pushing more elements into this poor thing and it wasn't letting my eyes rest. So I added emptiness, big neutral, peaceful puddles. All of a sudden, the painting came to life - it had its ying and yang. It was full of energy, captivating but not overwhelming.

And it immediately struck me that this is a direct mirror of my everyday life. I never let myself take a breather. I run at full speed, my task organizer bursting at the seams, like a hamster on its little wheel. And I set the same schedules for the kids, because I feel this pressure to keep up. And everyone is irritated, exhausted, struggling.

So as a result of this conversation with my painting, and in order to not burn out, I decided I'll take a nice long coffee break once in a while. I'll allow myself to have a relaxed lunch. I'll find time for yoga and sauna in my schedule, and I'll ease off the kids. I won't rush to sign them up for more activities so that I feel on par with other involved parents. I'll let them play and relax whenever possible. That's truly my wish for everyone this Holiday season - please take the time to breathe. Even a half hour a day helps. Invariably relaxing brings you to new solutions to old problems.