That is what I have been doing everyday for the past two weeks.  I have turned my attention inward and have been thinking about “why”  I do what I do.  I know that I “make joyful art from reclaimed materials”.

I do this happily.

I do this almost everyday.

This tag line is on my business cards, my website, and every social media site I am engaged in.

It took months to come up with that simple little line that describes what I do in a matter of seconds.

But now I am putting the “why” into words too.

It has been a long time since I have really looked this closely at myself and my actions.

And I am loving it. Every second of it.

This insightful journey started when my dear friend Heather (fellow artist and my creative conspirator) signed up for Hello Soul, Hello Business.  Two woman who I greatly admire, artist/author/possibilitarian Kelly Rae Roberts and adventurer/entreprenuer  Beth Nicholls collaborated on this 10-week soul searching e-course aimed at creative businesses.

So I signed up for my first e-course ever and it has been more intimate and inspiring than any course I have ever taken.

Crazy.

I feel closer to this group of woman (over 300!), Kelly Rae and Beth than I have to teachers and students I talked with and sat next to for hours, weeks, days and months.

Here is how my studio looks as I listen and paint at the same time, standing between my two desks. I usually listen to the audio twice and my colored pencils are nearby so I can take notes expressively. Of course, my coffee is nearby too.

Here is my “why”.

I make joyful art from reclaimed materials because if I can make colorful, happy art from materials headed for the trash, then there is hope in this world.  In every little corner of the world there is hope. And I plan to paint it.  Seize it.

The challenge of using recycled materials is that first I have to find “it”.

So I am a treasure hunter by occupation.

I go to architectural salvage yards.

I dig through the scrap bins at the plastic fabricating company I work with.

I  search home improvement stores for rejected paint (it is usually more colorful).

I collect plastic signs that have been replaced or taken down.

I carry all my found treasures back to my studio, the sweet stone cottage in the background.

I turn on my music and I create. I sand, prime, clean, caulk, paint, drill, repaint, paint again, attach….the list of verbs go on.

Hours, days, sometimes a week or more passes. Then I am finished.

All of the flowers below are cut from reused signs. Then painted with mistake paint. And than placed in my colorful vases, where they will bloom forever. They bloom in my studio, in galleries, in homes, in businesses, in healing spaces, across the United States and across the ocean.

A new friend from my e-course saw a piece of my art I posted on my facebook page.

She wrote below it, “You make me want to try”.

That is why I make art from reclaimed materials.

If I can make art from what others discard, then there is hope.

For all of us.

After what seemed to be a few hours of sleep, my daughter and I boarded an early morning plane New Year’s Day with her dance troop (about 30 dancers in all, their moms and dance instructor) on route to Fort Lauderdale to dance during half time at the Orange Bowl.

Our bags were stuffed with dance wear, extra dance shoes, and too many clothes. Less obvious than the two overfilled suitcases, was the long list of expectations I had packed for myself.

I was going to set up a Pinterest account, input all my accounting for the year, work on my website, write a blog, order art supplies, read an art biz book, pick one word to symbolize 2012, work on my business plan, etc…

The list was long.

I did not do one thing on it.

Instead, while my daughter practiced, which seemed like all the time,  I made some really amazing new friends, took lots of pictures, went to a yoga class, spent some time in the spa and napped.

I relaxed.

Above all, I was inspired by this group of girls who danced in front of 75,000 people for eight minutes.  After many studio hours and lots of practice at home, they put themselves out there and truly shined.

My daughter was not nervous.  Just ready.

Isn’t that what we all want to be?  Ready?

Ready for the moment when everyone is watching?  The moment when you are given the opportunity to shine?

During the performance, I put my camera down and watched my daughter dance. I was present.  I was not trying to preserve a moment. I was in the moment.

And it was magical. Every single second of it.

Most everyone on our trip left the morning after the game.  My daughter and I slept in, had a late breakfast in our room followed by a 5-hour road trip to visit my mother and father in-law.

What road trip would be complete without a trip to Cracker Barrel?  I am so glad we stopped because it was there I discovered I was a genius. My daughter expressed some doubts.

When we arrived at my mother and father-in-law’s warm and wonderful home, this is one of the first things I saw.

I love this because it reminds me when I put down my long to-do list, everything I want to do will still be waiting for me.

I can cross off one of the things on my list though.  I picked my word for 2012.

Ready.

Just like my daughter was ready to dance.

I am ready to grow my business.

I am ready to explore new ways to create art from reclaimed materials.

I am ready for every moment I am given the opportunity to shine.

I purchased this handmade art book at an outdoor market with my daughter in High Falls, New York.  We had an art getaway weekend, just the two of us the spring before last.  We stumbled upon an outdoor market in the middle of town on a Sunday morning and an artist selling tiny handmade books.

I cannot resist books, especially handmade ones waiting for someone to write their story on the pages.   And a few months later, I had a story to tell; a joyful story told from my cottage studio. Take a look.

I wrote about how calm I felt in my creative space.

I wrote about the very first pieces I painted in my new studio.  I am trying to tally exactly how many pieces of art I worked on in this space so far, but already I have lost count.

 I realized on these pages that the toughest deadlines to meet are the ones I place on myself.

I felt no obligation to write each day or each week.  I just wrote.

And just writing whenever I was moved to do so was enough.

Enough so I could write down “my heart is singing.  I just needed a little quiet so I could hear it.”  

And a few words on paper so I could remember it all.

The thought behind it and the cohesive outcome leaves me speechless. As we walk by my work our guide says, “and here is one of our major installations.” Pinch me!  I wished that everyone who had helped me over the past two years had been right beside me at that moment.  I would have had a crowd.

What a journey! Here I am on site when the walls went up.  I took so many measurements over many visits.

There were numerous trips to collect replaced business signs from Future Signs in Trenton. Sometimes I had to borrow trucks that would fit my cargo to bring them to get cut.

Here is an old sign being repurposed for my install.

 Then back to my studio to be sanded.

Each piece then came back inside my studio to be painted and embellished.

And this process just keep repeating itself over and over for the past year.

Here I am on one of my final installation days.  I am exhausted but so happy.

I had the support of so many people when I undertook this huge project. I just want to say thank you to a few. This could take a minute.  I am glad I am not being timed.

Thank you to the visionaries at Capital Health Medical Center, who believe that art can heal and sooth. Through you came Lin Swensson, the art consultant who saw something special in my work.   Together you showed me a 90-foot space filled with possibility and asked me the most wonderful question, “what do you see?”.

Thank you Lin Swensson for showing up monthly at my studio to check in on my progress and offer support. I look forward to knowing you forever and I am so grateful you loved the colors of my art. This was a huge project and you knew I could do it.  Thank you!

Thank you Rich and Kim at Future Signs in Trenton for saving every sign for me for almost two years. I could not have done this project without you. Every time you replaced or took down a sign you thought of me and put it aside in a special place.  Your shop is the neatest workspace I have ever been in. Your location was perfect because I was able to reuse signs from local businesses in the area, right next to where Capital Health had a 120 year history.

Thank you John, Eric, Amy and Mike at Central Art. John and Eric, thank you for sitting patiently with me many times and sharing your knowledge.  It was like taking a crash course in plastics. You are so smart, innovative and skilled and because of that, you have a very busy business and high profile clients. But you always made time to answer my many questions, even when I asked them more than once. Amy, thank you for noticing there was a tool to make my work easier.  Mike, thank you for cutting all those small pieces with such precision.

I have to single you out Eric and say a huge thank you for helping me install this sprawling artwork.  You are an amazing person. You do things thoughtfully and correctly simply because that is the only way you work. Installing this project side by side was an eye opening experience for me. I learned so much from you about the installation process and a whole bunch more. When I was on my own at the end, I kept thinking “what would Eric do?”.  You are meticulous.  Thank you too for always being true to my green business philosophy and for taking the time to find a scrap piece of plastic for me when it would be much easier to just grab a new piece.  I could not have done this installation without you.

Thank you Rick and Bonnie at Cunningham Hardware, my favorite art supply store.  I love how you do business.  You know everyone by name who comes in and answer all their questions as if you are doing the project they are asking about.  For years of help, thank you.

Thank you Fred, Wendy, Anne and Mike for being my caravan to the hospital on install day. I am grateful to each of you and to every blanket and quilt you brought with you to wrap up my artwork safely that morning.

Thank you to my friends who are artists who were there when I needed them. To Heather, my newest and “how did I ever live without you” friend.  You popped in to assure me the colors were looking good, keep saying “repeat, repeat, repeat” just when I needed to hear it,  helped me load huge pieces and take them to the hospital mid way to see if I was on track, brought over homemade energy bars to my studio when I had no sleep scheduled, and you came onsite during installation to help me hang.  What did I ever do without you?  I have no idea.  I just hope I can be as good a friend.

Thank you to Maggy, my dear friend and wood maker. You were always there to cut up an old sign into odd shapes whenever I called. Your studio is amazing and I thank you for sharing it with me. Thank you too for cleaning all those plastic shavings up after I left even though I offered to to it.  I appreciate the times you watched me work and suggested an easier way to go about it.

Thank you Anne, for your painterly wisdom and all your last minute guidance just when I needed it. My stairs look like you can run down them, “glazing” was exactly what I needed to hear and your studio lighting helped me work through the night.  And thank you for checking in on me that very same night to make sure all was okay.  You are a good friend and  I am grateful.

Thank you Cynthia, for being a mentor and muse.  I never did color inside the lines and you never asked me too. I discovered plastic and Oops! paint in your company.  Thank you for all the inspiration.

Thank you Karen for years of encouragement with my art, for not making too much fun of me when I resole my shoes and patch my pants 16 times in an effort to keep them, for telling all your California friends about the colors of my art, for feeding my children when I was locked in my studio, for coming to my studio at night when I could not come to you, for your sweet card and bag of candy bars at the final hour and for helping me install late at night in a huge empty hospital and looking at me like I was a contractor.  For all that and more, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you Sharon, my only sister and closest friend, who flew in during my installation, cooked, cleaned and organized my house, stocked my cabinets with food (the same ones that held pots but now logically hold food).  You realized the magnitude of what I was doing and made sure those closest to me did too. Thank you too for planning magic getaways to faraway places.  You are simply the best sister anyone could have.

Thank you my sweet mother-in-law. You and Dad are always there when I need you.   Thank you for relieving my sister when she returned to her life, feeding my family and doing massive amounts of wash for years. Seriously, mountains of wash. For all your support and time spent folding, I thank you and love you.

Thank you Wyatt and Paige, for letting me work so hard on this project and taking care of yourselves when I was in my studio after school. You  did your homework, helped me with my project whenever I asked you to and were not too harsh when I came home with paint all over my face and hands. When you saw my installation, you looked at me with amazement for a second that I did it.   I loved that reaction, and love you both, so much.

Thank you Michael, my very best friend, biggest supporter, husband and partner in crime.  You know I will do whatever is needed to get something done, even if that means no sleep and no food. Still you made sure I ate and encouraged me to sleep.  Thank you for all the times you brought dinner to my studio, hung out with me when I painted, cut, sanded, glazed or painted yourself, made sure the kids were fed and told me I was amazing when I had paint on my face and needed a shower. You give me wings. I adore you.

Lastly, a big thank you to my mom, who is no longer here.  She told me I could do anything.  I believed her.

The higher the pressure, the calmer the environment I stage around me. Even when deep down inside I am afraid that I won’t be finished or I worse, that it will not turn out the way it is expected to, my inner voice is so assuring. I mentally say to myself, “that is the straightest line” or “you do that so well” or “great. now lets do this.  almost there.”.  It sounds silly, I know. But it is effective.

In my studio, I set up an environment that makes me want to create. Before I start, I clean, stock, prepare and entice. I was recently working on a collage that required lots of sewing on paper. I threaded about 16 needles and had them all lined up like racecars ready to take off. I looked at all that colorful thread and could not wait to get started.

Take a closer look. I wrote on a desk calendar “almost there-such a long journey.”  A few gentle words I had written just before my big installation.

I had to really think about the process that I am using instinctively to push forward in my art.  Because I need this same process to soothe and calm me outside the studio too.

Sometimes a picture says it all.  Here is my studio counter two weeks ago. Very civilized.

Here is my studio counter as I was closing the door to head over to the hospital to install.

Organized chaos. It still looks the same because I haven’t been there in days to clean it.

This is me this week. Not home. Not in my studio.  I am happily installing and experiencing new levels of happiness and exhaustion. Sometimes I take a shower, eat and sleep, but not as often as I would like.

This is me and Eric, who is the president of the plastic fabricating company, Central Art, helping me install.  He is amazing and I could not put a project of this size up without him.  I see in bright colors and shapes; Eric sees in inches and reality.

It is about 70% up.  I still have lots of detail work to do and more pieces to hang.

Gotta go; work to do.  Just wanted to share a bit of the process.  I have so many people to thank.  More on that later.  Can’t wait to show the finished piece.

Below is the first book I ever altered. This book is very much about my mom, but I made it just for me. She died three years ago after a long illness. We reached a point when she was completely bedridden and it was so much easier to use other people’s words than our own, so I read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk to her each day. We both looked forward to what was going to happen next in our story. Sadness was replaced with anticipation.

When I alter a book, I only keep about 25 of the original pages and use the rest to sew back into my book either as pockets or as words. I think one of the parts I love best about altering a book and turning it into a personal piece of art is when words that were meant to tell a different story tell my story too.


When I look back over the time my mom died and since, I would say this altered book is one of the most important things I did to heal. I went away by myself to a wonderful inn in Lancaster, Pennsylvania called The Artist’s Inn. I stayed for three days and sewed and painted in silence. I needed the time alone that went into sewing and tying the edges of each page.

This book is still not quite complete and I don’t think it ever will be. I still write a note or two to my mother each year and stick it in the pages. I still go back to The Artist’s Inn too, just for a few days of much needed creative silence usually around Mother’s Day.

This past weekend, I packed my overnight bag, ready to evacuate if the Delaware River swelled in Irene’s wake. There wasn’t much in my bag. I packed a few pieces of clothing, contacts, some makeup and this book.

My design is a colorful urban city that becomes more rural as the youngest patients and their parents walk into the pediatric corridor. It has funky buildings, colorful row homes, trees, flowers, a bridge and a delightful little blue bird who can be found everywhere. This is the largest piece of art I have ever created and it has been a part of my life for two years. I swear it sleeps next to me in bed and I stir it into my coffee each morning.

Here is the model I presented to be considered for this wonderful space.

This is just a section of the actual installation. I look at it constantly as I create to make sure each piece has the same feeling.

These are some of the actual pieces in my studio. The model is in the background, always in my line of vision as I create.

You can see the building, the tree, some of the sun and clouds. I was surprised at how hard it can be to recreate your own work. Because I have had a year to complete this project, I have been able to redo and repaint a piece until I am delighted with it. Sometimes I get it just right the first time. Those are good days and I have lots of them.

Lin Swensson is the art consultant overseeing this amazing project. She is based in Tennessee and I think I have seen more of her in the past year than I have of my neighbors. Lin stops by my studio monthly to have a cup of coffee with me and see my progress.

I have learned so much in the past two years that I have been involved in this project. The first year, I was focused on presenting my ideas for a 90-foot entrance space that would engage, distract and delight children and their parents. Then came the actual designing and finally the legal aspects of signing a contract.

For the past year, I have been just creating it piece by piece in my studio. I gather, cut, sand, prime, paint, repaint, alter, take a break, paint some more, step back for an objective look and then start another piece. Less than five weeks to go.

Please come along with me for the final stage of my creation.

I did not know Don, “S” or dog but I was really moved by this note. Moved enough to take a picture and write about it 6 months later. Did Don, who smiled to people as they passed while he worked, know what his smile meant to “S”?

Did they know each other? I am thinking maybe not, and one day “S” walked by and Don was no longer there.

I have people and places I pass in my daily travels I would miss if one day they were not there. Like this little roadside farm stand I pass when I leave the plastic fabricator with all my recycled plastics. Their produce is local and fresh, but I love the money can and the trusting person who puts it out each morning.

There is a faded sign that tells you to go in the jar and make change if you need it. This stand has been running on trust for years. Next time I stop, buy my veggies and leave money in the money can, I will leave a note too. “Thank you for your trust. Glad you are here.”

This past week, I went to Princeton with my 13-year-old daughter and her friend and we left hope notes in little public places.  I first read about hope notes in my friend Heather’s creative blog, where she posted 41 things she wanted to do in the next year.  I had never heard of hope notes before and the idea of leaving a positive message to be found by someone you don’t know really resonated with me.  I shared this idea with my daughter and her friend and they spent an afternoon writing hope notes. One of their hope notes said “you will get the job you want“.  How insightful!  Here is one of their colorful “read me” hope notes left on a bench.

The best part about hope notes is that you can be really creative about how you want to make them.  Mine were written on a torn diner placemat.

Then I left some of them open so that the message could be read.  Here is one I left on a bench in beautiful Palmer Square.

Sometimes I folded them up to be discovered, like this one hidden in a parking meter.

We will never know exactly whose heart we touched or what events our positive messages put into action.  But I can tell you, we all left Princeton more hopeful and looking forward to our next hope note adventure.