Since I spent 3 hours trying to write about that with minimal progress, I’ll save it for later. What I want to talk about is the orange chair. Several people have asked me about the chair in the photograph on my blog. Was it really on the beach? Did I haul it there? Was it actually orange? Even more than that, I’ve had a few of you tell me how much you like it. As Rebecca at Altared Spaces said, “Something inside me just went “Ahhh” when I saw it.” Thanks, Rebecca! The Orange Chair was essentially my first attempt at creativity as an adult ~ you know, after you’ve had all the spontaneity and freedom beat out of you. For several reasons, it holds a special place with me.

My niece Carrie and I stumbled on the chair during a morning beach walk back in July 2006. Apparently, late in the middle of a hot summer night, somebody had a bonfire on the sand and needed a place to plop. Not having a lounge chair or a towel, they decided it would be a good thing to drag their living room furniture down to water’s edge. If that chair could talk, I’m sure it would have some stories to tell about the night it spent on the sand next to a big roaring fire. I’m not quite sure I’d really want to know all of its secrets because I may be sorry I sat on it, but it survived the night, didn’t get washed out with the tide and was beached like a shipwreck just waiting for us to find it.

The coastline was full of people that morning but oddly enough, no one else seemed to notice the chair. Everybody was walking by like it wasn’t even there. We decided to go back with my camera that evening and after asking the woman in a lounger to the left of the chair, “Is this seat taken?” (we couldn’t resist) we spent the next few minutes posing for posterity. This picture is one of my favorites. Carrie was visiting, Pearl was still happy and healthy and it was one of those hot summer evenings where everything was right with our world.

Carrie, Pearl and me in the orange chair.

I printed out the original shot and one of my friends saw the picture. She’s always been a big believer in everything I do, so I decided to take the original and get a little creative with it. The idea was simple: keep the chair orange while converting the background to black and white. This was my first attempt at post-processing digital prints and the process for me was nothing but easy. If you know anything about Photoshop, this can be done in about 5 minutes. I however, have no less than 30 drafts and probably hundreds of hours invested in the finished product. In the first version I actually clicked my way painfully around the chair, deleted it out, changed the background tones, and pasted the chair back into place. I venture to say here that art often imitates life: I do tend to do things numerous times and the hard way before I figure out the easiest, best way for me.  But I’m not going to get heavy here so we will leave it at that.

Several people got the print for Christmas that year and from there, the whole photography creativity thing was born. It’s been slow-growing, but I’m a big believer in synchronicity and I know there are no accidents. From my orange painted walls to Orange the doll to Orange Drive, I’ve learned to open myself up to the orange, so to speak. The print is actually titled Possibility . . . Because of this chair, I’ve had a couple of small shows, made a few sales, started my photography website and met one of my best friends when she saw the print hanging on the wall of the gym. And I finally took the chance to start writing a bit more than just what hides in my journal. When it came time to name my blog, The Orange Chair was really the only option. It is from here I celebrate synchronicity, creativity and possibility. And it is from there that I learn who I am. 

The original photograph.

The Orange Chair, aka Possibility . . .

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

This is just one segment of a film created because an idea ignited in Mark Johnson one day while watching a crowd gather to listen to street musicians: What if music could unite and bring peace? He began the project in Santa Monica, CA with the filming of legendary street blues singer Roger Ridley, and fanned across the world shooting musicians playing their own music in their native countries and connecting them by editing their performances into a “universal song.”

The finished project, Playing for Change: Peace through Music, has evolved into a foundation that seeks to unite musicians and bring people together while promoting peace. They work to build music and art schools in communities that are in need of inspiration and hope, the first in South Africa and the latest in Kirini, Mali, described on their website as “an ancient village with about 1,000 people, all of whom are descendents of musicians, many of them over 75 generations of musicians. They have no electricity, but enough soul to brighten all of us as we share this journey together. It is also the home of the newest Playing For Change Music School.”

I was able to view a screening of the entire movie last night with about 30 other people. It’s obvious that music links us, whether two people or two thousand or twenty thousand. So enjoy the video, the emotion and the soul, and check out their website. And when you feel those inspirations come, like a quiet passing thought out of thin air that flames up like a match in the dark, maybe don’t let it disappear into nowhere.

What if you actually acted on it?

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

Yesterday I felt compelled to spend the better part of a beautiful Saturday washing the hardwood floors and windows, dusting mini blinds, sweeping the deck and doing laundry. Today I think my spirit is doing a bit of cobweb clearing too. I’ve pretty much given in to a silly little crying jag that started in a dream and shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. In the center of my chest is a stabbing feeling ~ like something is gone and is ripping my heart out with it. A couple of times it’s had me doubled over, gut-wrenching, wracked, a good kind of cry. From down deep somewhere, whatever has left or is on its way out is leaving because the time has come for it to go.

A friend asked me over coffee a few days ago what I wanted to do with my photography now that I’m in Southern California. The answer I gave is that I really don’t know. As an artist or creator or whatever, shouldn’t I have an answer for that? It would be sweet to be in a gallery or two, and heck, I’d love to sell more of my prints online, but I’m not sure those two things alone completely fuel the fire. I once didn’t take a job as a photographer’s assistant because the woman told me she wasn’t it in to make “pretty pictures” and did it strictly for the money. Eh, I kinda need more than that.

His simple and honest question haunts me. There is more to my answer than that I just don’t know. The truth is, I’m kinda winging it right now. I mean, I did move to LA, and then Ojai, more on a whim than a plan, right? I’m figuring out stuff all the time. I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this but I do know that I don’t need to beat myself up for not having it all laid out on paper just yet. Something is swirling around and taking shape and building form and in its present stages already is something I could not have come up with on my own. So whatever’s going on inside today, this little bit of cleansing and making space, I’m going to just go with it.

So no big blog today, ok? Just a really cool little ditty that’s my new fav song from the all too awesome Rob Thomas. Now excuse me, because this song today, makes me wanna cry.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

It’s still very much my goal to be like my dear friend SuziCate and post a blog a day. So far, I’ve not done well with that.

Right now I’m blaming it on the fact that it’s all I can do to keep my head above water while getting settled into a new location. It seems like everything lately has been about navigating my way around town, learning who’s who, working to earn the living, and taking the dogs out for walks and to pee while keeping one vigilant eye on the ever-threatening evil coyotes.

Add to that an hour of yoga and walking a day ~ cuz that’s for the sanity and the gut ~ and you start to get the picture, and even those are rushed. There’s just been no good quality MeTime for sitting down and writing a blog. Because unfortunately I can’t yet pop them out and hit “publish” without at least a couple of hours of time invested. This is my heart and soul here, after all.

I’m trying to be kind to myself and not beat my own head with a stick for all the days I’ve missed and all the great ideas I’ve let slip away, ~ not to mention all the blogs I haven’t taken the time to read ~ but sometimes I feel like I’m running uphill against my own personal stopwatch and I can practically hear the seconds ticking away. Life . tick . Is . tick . Going . tick . By . tick . And .  tick . You . tick . Are . tick .  Missing . tick . It.

What suffers along with my good nature and my attitude tends to be the things I love most. Shooting pictures, writing, reading, meditating. Hell, just sitting on the back deck with a cup of coffee and a breeze. In sort, all the things that feed and fuel my soul. All the things that are creative. You may not think that plopping your butt on the patio is creative, but you’d be surprised at what runs through my head in those moments of downtime.

Creative energy. I need that. Like a fish needs water and a dog needs a bone, I need to have my hands and my being immersed in those creative juices. When they aren’t flowing, this baby withers.

Due to car space, very few books made the trip to LA with me. Most ended up going to friends or donated. So it took me by surprise this morning when my eye fell on a book I’d bought when I came to LA on vacation back in 2004. Jill Murphy Long’s Permission to Play is a beautiful little book full of reminders on why and how to make time for this essential part of any creative and happy life.

Random flipping of pages landed me in the chapter called Creative Expression and a cool little entry called The Top Ten List for Creating. I’m gonna start right now with number one, and see about working my way up. During a particularly whiny bitch episode a couple of days ago, someone pointed out to me that photography is like my therapy. Well, I miss my camera, and I miss my blog, and I am coming back.

The Top Ten List for Creating
10. Learn something new.
9. Perfect a skill.
8. Play in colors.
7. Experiment with textures.
6. Savor the five senses.
5. Be in a happy mood.
4. Alleviate stress.
3. Create with your hands.
2. Develop commitment.
1. Smile more!

*As a footnote, the coyotes honestly haven’t been that bad. I’ve yet to see them, though I’ve made a habit of sitting at the window at dawn and dusk and listening to them come out to hunt. Their howls and yelps are bone-chilling and other worldly, especially at 1am, and I’m afraid I’ve created my own version of the BoogeyMan. So I read about coyote totems, and this is what I found:

If coyote has come into your life perhaps it is time to loosen up and have some fun. While coyote stands for a lot more than just a trickster, sometimes humor and fun are necessary in life when under a great deal of stress. Coyote will teach you how to embrace your inner child and have fun again like you did when you were a child. He will teach you how important it is not to only have fun, but to be able to laugh at yourself in the process. Individuals with coyote as a totem are in for a very fun ride so hold on tight, go with the flow, and enjoy the adventure.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

The Topa Topa Mountains in the Ojai Valley

I’ve been in LA exactly one month today, and I’m leaving. Yep, that’s right. Packing it up, loading the dogs back into the car, and watching the Santa Monica pier fade from view in my rear view mirror. I’m going up to Ojai.

If someone had told me a couple of months ago that I’d get to LA and leave within 30 days I would have called them crazy, and if I had known the things I know now and still come, I’d have called me crazy. But I am and I would have done it anyway. LA has had a pull on me for over 16 years and when I am here, I tend to better fall into and flow in life’s grand design. Instead of feeling stuck in sameness, my life sort of blossoms open and I go along for the ride. People come into my life quicker here, opportunities pop up faster here, things move forward. Life expands.

So when Daisy started her BarkFest in our new apartment, it freaked me out. She’s a social dog, and in Virginia Beach, she’d run down the street stopping at all the neighbor’s front doors to say hi. I’d go to work for 8 to 10 hours a day; the neighbor in our duplex never heard a sound. But being in a small space with no view out the window, no opens spaces to romp and play, and no real people or doggy friends to see, she kind of went nuts. And then I went nuts because I stayed at home with her for the next two weeks, pretty much 24 hours a day, so she wouldn’t disturb our neighbors. I came to live out loud and ended up living house-bound.

We did a week of severe Cesar-style training and my Daisy worked hard and began to fall in line behind me, her Alpha dog. Instead of waking up joyful and bounding to the door to go potty, she’d walk over and stand there waiting for me. Instead of doing the beagle-dance for breakfast and dinner, she’d lie on the kitchen floor and wait to be fed. Instead of spending her days with her head propped up on the window ledge and watching the world go by, she’d bury it under her pillow and sleep the day away. Instead of greeting me at the door like I was absolutely the best friend she would ever, ever, have, excited and running back and forth with her bone in her mouth, she’d look at me, grab her bone and go lay down with her tail wagging. She tried so hard, good dog.

And that’s when we went to Ojai. I’d heard about it from an acquaintance several months before and, like LA, felt a strong connection for a city I’d never seen. I’m from a small town and crave that slower, community feel. But there’s more. It’s surrounded by mountains. It’s artistic and spiritual and outdoorsy. It’s eclectic and quirky. And it sounds a whole lot like the type of place the astrologer described to me almost 3 years ago.

One road trip and one apartment hunting expedition later, I find myself in a totally different yet not so completely unexpected direction from the one I’d spent a year planning. I think I’d have ended up in Ojai eventually, but the Universe says why wait? I asked it to lead me where was best and turned the key. Life revved up its engine, buckled my seat belt, tossed me onto Orange Drive. Then it slammed on the brakes, did a donut in the parking lot, threw on some tunes, rolled back the soft top, hit the gas, and cruised on up the PCH.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

Susan and I co-writing our blog.

Karal. Nan. Susan.

Half of the Schuyler Horse Club. The wanna-be horse owners.

All wanted a horse. None ever owned a horse. None any longer desire a horse. In fact none care too much for horses any more.

This leads to the question of what have they had in common through the years and what connects them now.

They all like wine.

All have been married. Two are divorced. Two have kids.

Two have dogs. One has cats.

They all like wine.

One can sorta sing. One thinks she can sing after two shots of tequila. One can’t sing at all and won’t inflict that pain on her worst enemy.

All agree that the meal worm experiments and pendulum studies in elementary school were way stupid.

They all like wine.

All were afraid of the old woman ghost with long fingernails that Regina told them killed herself in the school bathroom. None want to go back to elementary school girls bathroom. All are still afraid.

Two write blogs. One reads blogs.

They all like wine. (Karal wants to know red or white, Susan says it doesn’t really matter at this point!)

All agree that Miss Hunter was the coolest elementary school teacher EVER.

All disliked the same girl from those school days – what? She was MEAN!

All three love the ocean.

All three are glad to have stayed in touch through the years.

They all love wine!

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.

Life is a picture. Whether a photo, or a painting, a sketch or a collage, each is a product of its own unique constitution and circumstance. While we generally have an idea of where it comes from, rarely can we fathom where it will come to. As with the picture, the manufacture is often as interesting as the image and when viewed in the context of its narration, takes on more depth and meaning.

Some are composed, painfully set with the utmost care to insure the proper aperture and focal length or carefully laid on the canvas in layers of shades that have no appeal on their own but together bring life where there was none. Others are the result of a feeling, or happenstance, the luck of the draw or a moment of opportunity. Some of the most interesting are the result of mistakes, or at least what were thought to be mistakes at the time or the results of a frustration that, cast in anger, somehow births a calming panorama.

Each has its own life to live and is endowed with character and intricacies that belong to it alone. Each is subjected to interpretation, often judged by those that do not understand it, as less than beautiful. Or it might be gauged against another, which unjustly disappoints the observer and the subject alike as neither can live to or in the other’s standard.

Each has its layers, its colors or lack thereof. The harder lines of its structure and shadows that bring it depth often mask the feelings and emotions that are the true geneses of its form.

The picture must be seen in its own light. It must live in its own light. It cannot take the place of another. It cannot be cast out of its element for the sake of the eclectic and it should not be detained for the sake of conformity. It must be set in a place that accepts it, even if that placement brings discomfort to its fellows. There is a light somewhere that is suited to it and when that light is found, the true depths of its beauty can emerge.

Each must find the proper frame. A picture can be beautiful but if a proper frame cannot be found, it can never be complete. Attaining the proper frame can be frustrating. Often we must try several before we find the one. Sometimes we hold it in our hands as we cast our eyes abroad. We shop the boutiques when what we need is in an old trunk in our attic. One can have and reject it, only to come back later with a clear eye that finally sees the connection. It may require a quest that we feel is beyond us, not realizing that the metal must endure the flame before it can be forged to form. Regardless, it must be found. When it is found, we must be able to see it and be willing to clinch it and to allow it to digest us. When it is right, we will know. And when we know, we can embrace it and see the picture for all that it is. Its glory and beauty can then be properly appreciated and we can be pleased with what has been created. Once we find that pleasure we can rest, and accept the adulation that our picture deserves.

Find your frame. Unfurl your beautiful picture and set it in its proper light. Then display it to the world. They will love it.

©2010 the orange chair. All Rights Reserved.