How to stop being exhausted from new routines

No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I'm flexible, in actuality change scares me, irritates the crap out of me, makes me uncomfortable. This time of year is especially difficult with the setting of new routines, let a lone a new space, a new set of priorities. 

I walk over to boil water for my tea and realize I can't locate an outlet immediate vicinity. I try to use my melting lamp and the extension cord won't reach, my easel breaks, I don't have enough enrollment to feel comfortable enough to pay my higher rent.

It all seemed so effortless last year and once again I beat myself up for dropping the ball with marketing, for daring to dream big, for reaching higher and higher. Rejections again from every corner - art fairs, online courses, live students. I keep telling myself that it' all for the best, that in the end all works out beautifully, but my ego is not convinced. How can I believe in myself if everything requires two steps forward and four steps back?

On days like today it's especially comforting to revel in the little familiar actions, like the mixing of a harmonious palette, the balancing of a composition with the drips, the rewarding discovery of new color combinations. It's soothing to sit in solitude and allow myself to be sad, scared and apprehensive.

"Only know you've been high when you're feeling low" are the lyrics in one of my favorite songs.
The good days will come, but only when I give in to the blues and let myself experience them, be kind to myself when I'm in this phase, as opposed to reverting to my customary self deprecating, self-criticizing self.

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 

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.

How do you deal with anger?

I'm angry. There needs to be contrast and darkness. Something inside me craves the play of opposites. I want to destroy my stupid mistakes, and enforce the vibrating texture of the main character and the background. Who cares what remains in focus: what's in the front and what recedes to the shadows? That is absolutely secondary.

I can't stand rejection. We all know we should not take it personally but every single time it's a knife that pierces straight to my heart and soul. I start hating everything I do.  I minimize all my accomplishments. This gnawing feeling that I'm worthless and utterly ungifted makes me want to slash it all, cut it up, and trash all these degenerate half-baked creations.Where is the darkness? I want it to be visible, to conquer the light, to penetrate my hopes and dreams. I need it to co-exist with the light and enclose it, and shape it.

Then, suddenly, this hatred passes and now there's too much contrast. My little inner child awakens and tells me that it's time to move on. It's time to balance it out and add some dimension. I'm that person that plows through. I don't dwell on the negative. I push myself to find new solutions. In these dark moments lies my strength. I find them disturbingly invigorating. They push me to new boundaries.

These nuances in mood and color bring depth and uncover the many dimensions of my life. I could be reveling in these contrasting color combinations forever. I love that it takes me four or five sessions to bring my paintings to completion. There is a span of all kinds of emotions, priorities, struggles captured with each piece. These feelings might not translate to the viewer, but they're apparent to me because I lived them all. These are little pieces of me, my true inner life away from the hustle and bustle of daily pressures.

Each canvas is a battered creation, attacked from all kinds of angles, yet made stronger because of its multiple mini-victories. I wonder what would happen if I could devote my sole attention to painting. Would these get somewhere faster, like they did while I was in college? Could my quest be solidified if I had all the time in the world - no work, no kids, no monetary concerns? Or are these paintings so incredibly deep because they reflect all of me: all my perturbations and the hundreds of existential questions I ask myself while I paint. One never knows. A fairy does not flicker her magic wand granting me a new life - so I make due with what's given me - n'est-ce pas?

For the painting that this process has produced, and more insights into life's existential questions sign on to my newsletter at www.dianastelin.com

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