The Wilson's

I wanted to share with you something I wrote recently about my art work.

"When I paint, I hope that the result will be to benefit relationship. That it will have something to add to the reality we all live in everyday. Our relationships take place in certain spaces throughout the week, such as the kitchen, the office, the classroom, the bedroom, the coffee shop, the restaurant, and the family room. These spaces are lacking the beauty that nature offers and the reminder of life that nature gives.

It is hard to choose life when it doesn’t seem to exist. My work is to offer life, to create beauty and movement within our relationships taking place in the most mundane spaces."

The Wilson's asked for exactly that. "Some color, please. A little life, please. Our place is missing something." Hopefully this was just what they were hoping for. Sometimes all your home needs is a little color. A little reminder of life.

A Life Lived in Redemption

These paintings are a story of a life well lived. And lived hard. By that I mean, it is a story about a life that has been through the whirl, felt the hurt, and instead of being buried, has produced incredible beauty, finding deep roots within all the disaster.

This triptych, 3-panel piece, is of the cycle in which I have seen lived out through this friend's life. From left to right, it reads, The Storm, The Pieces, and The Roots.

The Storm finds itself in the midst of a wave. A wave of abundance. Every person finds themselves in the middle of a day where everything most certainly is falling apart. Unexplainable tragedy hits, cancer attacks, evil seems to trump good, and hope is the farthest thing from reality.

The Pieces is the reality thereafter. Nothing has a home. Every piece is disconnected and feels as if it is totally unvalued, unimportant, and unworthy of the other. Nothing seems quite right.

This is when the story always has a different way. But this story, the one that has made an indent in my own life, chooses roots. The Roots shows the way of pressing on, the way of triumph. The seed that is planted and starts to go against the grain, against the dirt, against the hurt, and digging into the hard stuff.

This story is one that should be shouted from the top of our lungs, the one that presses on. Because nothing is more compelling, more overwhelming, and more beautiful then seeing a life lived well. Hope lived, reconciliation lived, love lived, redemption lived.

Rilie Dee Photography

http://www.riliedeephotography.blogspot.com

Canvases in a kids room!

Beauty With Age

From a grandma, to a mother, to a daughter, love is passed down. And this canvas story tells of that love.

Old age. Translation: wrinkles, memory loss, flabby, out of date, and so yesterday. But I look at my grandmother, forever "G-ma" to me, and see only the opposite. I look at my mother and long for the day I can have but an ounce of integrity and strength that woman does in entirety. What wrinkles? What flab? All I see is beauty.

I see the same beauty in a flower. The petals don't stay peppy and upright forever, you know. They droop and discolor, and eventually fall gracefully to the ground. But they are rooted. So deep, that they will come again in another season. And when that new day dawns for that seed, it will sprout again, and bloom into an even more beautiful sight.

Generations, when rooted deep, continue to sprout again, even in the gloomy seasons of life. They bounce back. They raise their voice, loud and strong. They make a footprint on the earth and live a life worth living. They find their way, because of the steps left before them.

From my Nana, to my G-ma, to my Mom, to me, and before that, and after that, roots have been and will continue to be sown. Even when all the life seems to be sucked out, something new and beautiful can be seen. Because their roots, their heritage, their purpose has gone down deep. They have taken root. What would generations see in a lifetime if they embraced their age, and chased after deep roots? They would see beauty.

Matt's Story

Matt asked for something, anything, that would fill his new empty wall in their apartment. Just moved in, it was fresh and ready for some color. This 3-piece landscape is titled New Mercy, and it is what came from our discussion and creation of what could fill this space.

The sun rises, it shines, and it sets. Every day. We count on it, we count on that sun rising once again. There is no doubt in my mind that it will come. Most of the time I don't even think on it because of just how sure I am that it will shine. I take it for granite, really. A new day. What could be better, what could be more needed? It is as though the sun comes back up to say everything is gonna be ok. And it sets as though to say what is done today is gone, move on, I will cover the deeds of today black as night like a blanket over the earth. But don't worry, I will be back tomorrow, and we will have a fresh day, we will start over.

TJ's Story

College. For some, a time when they create a new identity. When people really "find themselves" as some would say it. New friends, no attachments, no memories, no baggage. Not yet, at least. Some might see it as a fresh start. Finally kick those habits you are hoping were just a high school phase. No more looking back, those days of staff and parents telling you when and where you can't be is over. You pick your when, you pick your where. Freedom at last.

Before I sprinted off to college someone told me, "Don't forget where you came from." I wondered about that. Wondered what kind of advice it was. It seemed odd compared to the rest of the millions upon endless congratulations. Because those goodbyes were full of future tense things. Things like destiny, and chances, opportunities, and possibilities. The door was opening to a whole new world. Like I was jumping onto Aladdin's magic carpet ride into the rest of my life. And maybe those things are all true. But that advice about not forgetting where I came from, well, it buzzed in my ear like an annoying housefly. Because there were passions that filled my heart that were about to get clogged with reality. Real world mud would soon cloud the simple things I found so fulfilling. And the temptation to forget is exactly what was awaiting me. To forget why.

TJ loves baseball. I got the privilege of watching him grow into his love for it. From the sidelines, I saw that little munchkin dive into the world of dugouts and strikeouts. Not so much a little munchkin now, he is walking through that open door that college brings. And all the opportunities and other tunities that await him are going to be more spectacular than I can dream up. But what I hope, what I really desire for him, is to not forget. Not to forget his munchkin like love for the game. Not to forget, but to remember why it is he does it all.

This Blog Story

This blog is in connection with Canvases By Brit! (click on the link to the right to see more of Brit's work for sale!)

I, Brit, hope to use this blog as a way to SHARE STORY! Art is a beautiful way to express story. There is a story in every painting I create. Just like there is a story to be told in a photograph. There is also a story to be told by everyone buying my work and I want that story to be told too!

This blog will be pictures and stories of each canvas that I paint and their new home. I hope that we get to take part in each other's stories in the process.

Story

Story makes up our lives. Stories tell of our lives. There are characters and conflict. High points and low points. Miracles and totally ordinary happenings. Joys and grievances. We, the characters, interact with our surroundings and respond accordingly. All of us are creating stories. We all have one and will never be without it. Sharing stories is where I believe we become closer to one another. We open up a part of ourselves when we share stories.

Jesus lived stories. He told them. He asked others to share theirs. He was interested in story. The old story, and the new one. There is a great story that for those who follow Him get to take a part in.

I believe in story and the power of us connecting all of our small stories into one. That they would overlap, be a part of each other, and make a more beautiful story together. That starts with us sharing, taking active part in each other's story and being intentional about writing our own. What story do you have to tell?