The Zen of Dishwashing

I grew up in a house that did not have a dishwasher. It was my chore to wash dishes after dinner. Sometimes I resented not being able to run from the table and start school work or watch TV, but mostly, I felt it was just part of daily existence. I had a portable record player and must have listened to Joni Mitchell’s Blue a thousand times as I washed and dried dishes.

I left that house at seventeen, went to college two thousand miles from home, had a family, and lived in a variety of residences throughout the United States- apartments, condo, townhouse, and houses - all with dishwashers. My children never had to wash dishes after any meal as the microwave, iPod, computers, and dishwasher were just part of their daily existence.

A few years ago, after decades of living with modern household electronics, I moved to an old house, without gadgets.  My renovation started with the necessities – a new septic system and heat pump - but when it came time to redo the kitchen, I hesitated. I loved the mellow wood floors that I found beneath the linoleum flooring and the green glass knobs on the old floor to ceiling cabinets. I bought a new stove and refrigerator but when it came time to redo plumbing, I chose to forego a dishwasher. The dishwasher would have taken up valuable real estate in the old farm kitchen, my children were grown, and I figured it wasn't a big deal to wash a few dishes.

Now, I wash dishes every day. The window above the sink faces west toward the river overseeing birdhouses that attract a variety of birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and even deer. Washing the dishes provides an opportunity to watch the antics of aggressive blue jays, or the comical woodpecker hanging upside down. If it is late in the day, I watch the sunset over the river and hills, creating a backdrop of beautiful colors. I witness the changing of the seasons, the position of the sun as it sets each day. At this time of year, I feel the warm, sudsy water caress my cold hands, the dish cloth gliding over the smoothness of plates, the rough landscape of food stuck on dishes. It is a sensual experience to feel the soap, the water, the sleek glimmer of clean glass, smell of the soap, the sound of dishes clanging and the floor creaking as my body weight shifts on the old floors. It is a dance of the senses, of body and mind in togetherness. 

Every so often, as I did last evening, when darkness came early, I pull out my old iPod, attach some speakers, and listen to Joni Mitchell’s Blue, as she sings River:

It's coming on Christmas

They're cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

It is indeed coming on Christmas - I have skates and a river that I could skate away on – but now I also have a sense of stillness, as a million stars illuminate the night sky, of calmness, peace. There is in this moment a connection with God, with the silence that allows us to touch souls, and an understanding that we can, in stillness and intention, find ourselves in very ordinary acts.

Norah Jones - Creepin' In - Dolly Parton

The Tree

I live along a river, next to woods, with trees of all types; some planted, but most there by natures design. When I first moved to this location in the country – after the deaths of my parents and both siblings - I chose a favorite; a large solitary tree in a grassy area, which from old photographs, appears to have been there prior to the building of any structures in the 1930’s.  It is huge, with branches reaching out and upward. It too, is dead. I have watched the tree now for four years, as the last small branches have finished trying to cling to life. Each storm takes a little more of it, as branches break and fall to the ground.

In the spring of this year, a local electrician working on my house, who heats his home with wood, asked to cut the tree down. I could not let it go. I told him that I take photos of it, and that it somehow belongs where it is.  He suggested that he would be doing me a favor by clearing the land. I declined again, politely telling him that I would call him, should I change my mind. He looked slightly bewildered upon hearing this, and looked at me as if I was an eccentric outsider.  He shook his head, smiling slightly, got into his truck and left.  I let his judgment fall upon me, and acknowledged, if only to myself, that tree or not, I would not be living alone, an artist, with a penchant for deep thinking, living in the present, and appreciating the solitude and beauty of the land, if I were not, to some extent, eccentric.

So summer has now passed into fall, and the tree remains where it has been for decades. I watch while the solitary eagle lands on its bare branches, as it rests before circling on its route for food. Branches continue to fall. I continue to take photographs of the tree in the rain, in the sunlight, as sand cranes fly beside it, and in the light of the setting sun. I am reminded on a daily basis, that the tree, perhaps all living things, continue to provide for the living, long after their own life ceases.

Annandale Art Crawl

"Bee" smart - Join me at the Annandale Art Crawl on Thursday, October 2nd.  I'll be there with original paintings and photography from Crow River North Photography!

New Painting - Print Available Now!

Purchase Prints, Frames, and Mats Here: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/untitled-linda-l-brobeck.htmlhttp://fineartamerica.com/featured/untitled-linda-l-brobeck.html

Opening Reception

Two of my paintings, including Always on My Mind , are included in the exhibit "Art of Darkness: Inspired by the Paranormal" at Banfill- Locke Center for the Arts

Opening reception is on Saturday, September 6th, from 6-9 PM

Banfill-Locke Center for the Arts

An Ordinary Life

The whole world is a series of miracles, but we're so used to seeing them that we call them ordinary things.

 Hans Christian Anderson

I spend a lot of time observing nature at Crow River North and the surrounding

lakes and rivers.  I find the time spent to be calming and balancing in an otherwise busy life. Today was no exception. 

I had just arrived at my local library when one of my daughters called.  Rather than go inside, I sat on some steps that lead down to the shoreline of Buffalo Lake. We chatted for awhile and I enjoyed both the conversation and the breeze blowing off the lake.  Shortly after ending our conversation, an eagle worked its way toward shore. I hadn't ever seen an eagle swimming, so I lingered by to watch. It raised its wings, and with each stroke drew closer to the shore.  Upon reaching the shore, it stepped out of the water carrying a large fish in one talon.  It carefully carried its prey a little further up the shoreline. It wasn't an extraordinary event, like seeing a UFO, or watching your favorite team win a championship, instead it was a bird catching a fish,  a tiny spark, a daily reminder, of all that is beautiful, and ordinary, in life

Last evening, shortly before the sunset, I watched a doe, or as I would rather call her, Mama Dear, cross the field in front of my windows, with her two growing fawns.  I've been watching the trio since the fawns could barely stand. They have grown throughout the summer but still have remaining spots on their coats. They graze, and then look up, to observe me, observing them. 

Earlier in the day, a gang of turkeys grazed in front of my deck  - there were probably five or six adults and many young ones - eating and following one another across the grassy area.  Another ordinary day for them.

The cycle of life continues for many creatures, while I observe. There are the ducklings in the pond, swimming close to their mother - always one, moving a little too far away. 

There is the bee going about the business of pollination or whatever it is that bees do, while I silently observe.

I left another career to live and work at Crow River North, knowing that I needed to change my life. I chose to pursue a life in art. I have found art in life.

Wishing you all that is good,

L

When an ordinary man attains knowledge, he is a sage; when a sage attains understanding, he is an ordinary man. 

- A Zen Saying- 

Failure

I failed. There, I said it.


A few weeks ago I fired a load of ceramics that not only warped, but had glaze failures. I was, of course, disgusted. Weeks of hard work were destroyed. I looked up every reason that the failure could have occurred; too low of outdoor temperature (it was below 20 degrees), clay body failure (I used clay that had been sitting around forever), too fast, too slow, too something in the firing schedule. In the end, I suppose it was a combination of things, as is often the case when something goes awry. I had not had an entire load failure in all the years that I have fired ceramics. I dropped each piece on the concrete floor and broke each into bits.

 I had another load to fire, and more importantly, I had two large pieces of sculpture that I had worked on for a very long time. The work is still sitting on a table, waiting for me to lick my wounds, get off my butt, and try again.

Instead, I turned my attention back to my easel and started painting. Now, I seriously needed to do so, as painting is my primary medium. Still. It was a classic move - avoidance of conflict, confrontation, recognition of failure, and fear of recurrence.

Michael Jordan has remarked," I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."

I have always believed that life experiences, good or bad, are teaching points. If we look at our successes and failures, we can learn so much about what works and what does not. Thomas Edison once said, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work". Perhaps I believe in experiential learning because I have had so many losses in my life, failures of most every sort, and disappointment in myself and others. Regardless, I have found that if I think on what has happened, try to learn from it, and then move forward in a meaningful way, I can let go of the past events and live purposely in today.

So, when the time avails, I will fire again, and see what happens. I will experiment with other materials; challenge myself to try again and again. I may even take that bucket of broken bits and fashion them into mosaics on the sides of some pots and plant some flowers. Those bits just might see their way into something new and beautiful.

Here is hoping that you keep blooming, keep learning, and keep loving. Never, ever, give up.

Wishing you all that is good,

L

April 16

I just posted this photo online with the caption, " So much for dinner on the deck". It is still blowing and snowing with a couple more inches predicted before it ends . Is it fair to say I've had enough? I have to admit it is pretty now that I am safe at home. 

Wishing you all a lovely, safe evening, and all that is good,

L

Alpaca Expo

What a fun weekend! I met such nice people (and alpaca) at the Alpaca Expo. I had the opportunity to talk with people about raising alpaca and was able to purchase some beautiful fiber for use in my art projects.

 I need to find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow , so that I can build a barn and buy a herd! 

In Pursuit of Spring

Yesterday another snowstorm blew across Minnesota and for a time it felt like winter would never come to an end. Today, the temperature is rising, and soon the new 9-12 inches of snow will be puddles and streams. I was inspired to think about the bright freshness of spring and of blooming trees and flowers. I created a new art work as I waited for the weather to clear. Called  In Pursuit of Spring, the work is acrylic, acrylic glazing,and tissue paper on canvas. It is available on my website: lindabrobeck.com or prints are available at: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/in-pursuit-of-spring-linda-l-brobeck.html

Here's hoping that your day is bright and your weekend is grand!

Wishing you all that is good, 

L

Spring, Renewal, and Love

It is a beautiful sunny day here at Crow River North. Snow is melting, birds are singing, the sound can be heard of snow slipping off the roofs, and grass is peeking out where the sun is able to melt the piles of snow.

I have started a new painting, bisque fired two kiln loads of ceramics, managed to tear a room down to the studs to reconfigure some spaces, spent many hours of time in meditation, and in conversations with my lovely daughters. Time seems to have stood still while I engaged in these activities - and though I have been slow in posting to this blog, I am so grateful for this springtime regeneration.

I am reminded by the sights, the season, and by conversations had in the last week, that this is a special time of year characterized by rebirth, renewal, and love.

I was born lucky. Not because I’ve won the lottery, had a wealthy family, have great health, or any of the common measures of luck. No, I was born lucky because I have always had an open heart, optimism, and the ability to be thoroughly engaged. I have the capacity for great love, the resilience to pick myself up after sorrow or failure, and a sense of well-being.

I keep hearing conversations about singles finding “the one”, about anger, regret, disappointment, depression, and a lot about unhappiness.  This has had me thinking (while I have been tearing down walls, pulling nails, cleaning up debris) about love and the decision to be happy.  Yes, I said decision.  I believe that we can choose to be happy.  I don’t pretend that there is not sorrow, heartbreak, failure, sickness, even suffering. I do know, having experienced a challenge, more than once, that you can choose to live in that place of unhappiness or doubt, or you can choose to pick yourself up, re-craft your life, become engaged in meaningful activity, and feel happiness. I love art, architecture, design, my friends and family, know my own strengths, and have crafted my life so that I can engage in what I love and with whom I love.  This has nothing to do with cessation of suffering, or constant pleasure, but rather the choice to live with gratitude for what I do have versus what I have lost, or don’t have.

If you are interested in learning more about what Aristotle called “the good life"; about happiness, positive psychology, or optimism, pick up copies of some great books.  I would start with The Art of Happiness by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, or if you prefer a science based approach, books by Dan Gilbert or Martin Seligman. I've included links below to a couple of Ted talks that might be of interest.

Spring – a time of renewal and rebirth – invites you to start anew. I’m taking the time to start new projects which I’ll share here. How about you? What are you birthing this season? Let me know!

Wishing you love, happiness, and all that is good,

L

Please view my work at lindabrobeck.com

Winter Studio Time

It has been a long, cold, winter here at Crow River North, my rural Minnesota studio, with snow drifts that remain nearly chest high. I have shoveled tons of snow, been snowed in for days on end, and postponed many trips, short and long, as a result of the weather.

Despite this snow and cold, I have found great joy in the countryside and peace in my surroundings. Having lived throughout the USA in cities large and small, my choice to create a rural studio, was indeed a good one.  The setting has created a quiet space for reflection. Though many people would find it lonely, I have found the solitary time to be important to my creative process.

My favorite time of the day here at Crow River North, is sunset. I take the time to stop and watch as the sun sets over the river and drops beyond the horizon. Each sunset is an entirely new set of colors and striations. Clouds, wind, snow, rain, leaves, bare branches, birds, and animals of all types, influence the experience of the sunsets. It is my time to breathe. I clear my mind and take in the glory of this gift to me.  

I have painted (some of my work can be seen at: artsicle.com/Linda-Brobeck) and worked on my ceramics throughout the winter. The below zero temps have made it difficult to fire my kiln, which is located outside in the building pictured in the photo of snow drifts. So, I have accumulated a lot of green ware, which, I am excited to report, will be bisque fired next week, as the temperature has risen.  I suspect I'll be firing for the entire week before I get the chance to start glaze firing, which is always exciting. I have created both functional and sculptural work and look forward to finally getting the Crow River North website and shop open online. Please watch for my announcements! In the interim, please visit my website lindabrobeck.com

Wishing you peace and all that is good! 

L