My Journey : My One Word for 2019

Today I wanted to share about my word of 2019. Have you heard about this practice? Instead of resolutions {of which I’ve personally never had great success} one chooses a word to focus their year.

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In the past I’ve had words such as “fearless” and “growth”, intentions that specifically spoke to where I was in regard to pursuing a more creative life.  This year I’m going with “open”.

One of the exercises I’ve practiced with the word of the year is to think about different phrases in which your word fits.

What comes to your mind when you think of “open”?

A few that come to my mind:

  • Open and receiving the goodness of the universe

  • Open mind

  • open heart

  • Open arms

  • Eye opening

  • Open for business

  • When one door closes another opens

All of these phrases excite me for their sense of possibility. And if 2018 has taught me anything it is that pursuing possibility is where the good stuff is hidden.

I’d love to know: do you choose a word to guide your year? If so, what is it? If not, how in the heck do you stick to your resolutions?  :)

Happy 2019 friends. 

 

The Imposter’s Society : Art Journaling Workshop

Once upon a time I painted 32 paintings in 32 days for my 32nd birthday. ✨ 

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At the time I was the mom of an almost one year old. I didn’t call myself an artist because I didn’t make art. I mean, I had blogged before Sam was born and then I plunged myself into making a podcast after Sam was born in a weird “let’s fight post-partum depression/ anxiety by distracting myself” kind of thing, but putting things on the Internet didn’t count as making art. {Imposter Syndrome at its finest folks.}✨ 


And you don’t have to relate to any of the above to understand the near-ache that I had to make something physical. The slight drag of a brush across a canvas, the squish of paint under my fingertips, the {admittedly elementary school level} pride of accomplishment that happened when I could show someone a canvas and say, “Look!! See!! I made a thing!!” ✨ 


So I made 34 things. 4x4. They weren’t terribly complicated. Some weren’t even too good in a technical sense. 

But, in the way that matters, they were magical. These 34 tiny canvases helped me, for the first time in my life, acknowledge that I wanted to make art. That I wanted to pursue being an artist. To say that realization was life altering would be an understatement. ✨


Today, I’m opening up an art journaling workshop and I’m truly excited about it. I’m calling it “the Imposter’s Society” after that always present Imposter’s Syndrome I mentioned earlier. 

And its core, this workshop will help you break through the lies that inner voice is telling you about not being creative enough. It will, if you decide to go on the full six week journey with me, give you the instant gratification of making physical and tactile art. But most importantly, journaling can help you break through those ridiculous mental and emotional barriers that throw themselves in front of anyone trying to pursue a more creative life. ✨


I’d like you to read more about this hybrid online and in-person art making meet-up in this link. And, if you or a friend are truly interested, message me for a 50% off code that will be good until the balls drops on 2019.


I’d love to see what creative goals you achieve in 2019. Thank you for being on this journey with me. 

My Journey : The Little Craft Show

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I hesitantly pulled up to a volunteer event for the little craft show six years ago this fall. As the new girl in town, despite both my introversion and shyness, I was here to make friends. {And to help make vendor tags or whatever else needed helping that evening...}

I wasn’t fully aware of it at the time, but I also wanted to be an artist. I wanted to surround myself with people who were making beautiful things. “If I’m not able to, at least I could support those who are,” my inner artist voice whispered, peaking out and hoping this would be a safe space.

And it was.

This year I’m ridiculously happy {and simultaneously scared} to tell you that I will be a vendor at The Little Craft Show at the Bentonville and Fayetteville events. More details to come but until then I will be over here giving my inner artist voice high fives for pushing me to do hard things.

Inspired by : Jimmy Durante

Is there anything more quintessentially New York City than walking through Central Park on a crisp fall day with Jimmy Durante songs looping through ones head? 

As a die hard romcom character wannabe, I think not. Please address all hate mail to Nora Ephron {who, yes, I realized has passed, therefore she won’t care too terribly much about your hate mail. Which is basically my point.} 

Jimmy Durante was such a one-off. In an industry that revolves around good looks and smooth voices and the right clothes, this man made his way by having none of that. He embraced himself fully and wouldn’t we all do better to do more of that? 

Enjoy my shots from our quick NYC “planes, trains, water taxis and toddlers” adventure. Listen to my Jimmy Durante and friends playlist to get in the appropriate mood. 

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This last one, The Color Factory, gets an entire post to itself. Stay tuned. 

This last one, The Color Factory, gets an entire post to itself. Stay tuned. 

Note to Self : to-do lists and perfect timing

As I sit writing this it’s late. Not like crazy college kid like I used to be staying up until 2 figuring out how to right the world’s wrongs. No. Nowadays “late” looks like 11 when I have frittered away the time between my son going to sleep and now on a bit of writing, a bit of yoga, and a lot more screen time than I might deem wise for anyone else.

My brain is on loop. It’s one of the ways my anxiety rears up. A voice that is overly insistent asks me to look at my calendar again and again. “What are you missing? What are you not remembering? What other things can you pack into this next seven days so that it’s some sort of ‘better’?” 

It’s utter crap. But it’s the crap that, if I don’t recognize, can throw me into a tailspin. 

So, in trying to slow the tailspin this evening, I got out of the bed and went to find my “good camera”. It’s a major component in one section of my to-do list tomorrow and if I can find it maybe {please?} that voice will quiet enough for me to rest.

 {painting by the lovely  Erika Lee Sears }

 {painting by the lovely Erika Lee Sears}

11pm and I’m rifling through the attic and the half dozen boxes marked “studio” that I still haven’t made it through since moving in during June. I’m not exactly sure where it’s at and I haven’t touched it in over a year. “God. What if it’s not up here? What if it somehow got lost in the move? That thing was worth more than... well it’s a nice camera... I can’t just waltz out and buy another one. Paige! What did you do...” 

That voice. The one that orchestrates this overactive to-do liat: she a total bitch and sees the potential negative in things 100% if the time.

I’m in my bare feet, hoping that there aren’t still nails up there, lifting and rearranging stacks of old and mostly empty boxes while trying to push away that screeching nag of a voice. And suddenly there it is. The camera bag. And it’s heavy so it might even have the camera in it. Zipped open: camera and battery and extra lens and charger. I have hit the mental equivalent of a homerun against the voice that was doing its best to beat me. 

As I go to charge the battery, I glance down again at the “good camera” and think about the old whispers of that same voice who is now, thankfully, quiet. That voice threw a fit when I decided to not pursue photography {it’s a stable career choice for a creative!}. She also railed against me when I realized I wasn’t a fashion blogger {but you’ve covered fashion week!} or a food blogger {remember that one post where you got all those gorgeous shots at the farmers market?}.

That voice, this yelling voice who insists that she is right and should not be ignored was shut down tonight. I showed her that all the energy she put into shaming me was wrong. I wasn’t foolish to have put the camera away those times and I wasn’t foolish to have bought it in the first place. Tomorrow I learn how to photograph my art so I can have professional prints made. Tomorrow I get a step closer to becoming a “real” artist.

And tonight? Tonight, I’m learning how much I prefer the soft hum of my husband’s breathing and the whir of the fan to the mean voice who’s been my companion for much too long.