Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Today?

Find out more about this photo tomorrow.

Wordless Wednesday

Photographed today.  For Wordless Wednesday.

A Dozen Pledge

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on archival & acid free heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Last painting in my twelve day pledge series.

When we set our minds to accomplish a task or mission, and actually finish it, we feel exhilarated. The sense of achievement is sweeter than the thought of completeness. To say 'we've done it', is a token far more precious than any trophy.

Today, I've done it. I made true to my pledge. Twelve tulips, twelve paintings in twelve days.

One journey, a dozen stories.

11th Hour

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on archival & acid-free heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

The eleventh hour describes the last moment when everything changes.

Today is Palm Sunday, I remember. Let me tell you my favorite Palm Sunday story.

"It's one of her most favorite celebration. Every year on this day, she would wake up at four o' clock in the morning. She'll rouse up her sisters from sleep and cheerfully remind them of what's ahead, church at five.

Holding hands, the three girls will tiptoe to the 'big room' to check if their Mama and Papa are awake. Whispering so as not to wake up the littlest of them all. They all fought the urge to reach out to the 'battleship' (a.k.a. bed in the big room) and squeeze the cheeks of the little baby sleeping next to their parents.

In between little giggles, she whispered to them 'Ma, Pa, it's time!.' Their Mama and Papa stirred to wake up and as expected they heard them say 'Shhhh, the baby is sleeping'. One by one, they stepped out and headed to their closets. All excited to pull out their Sunday dresses.

'Can you tie my hair first?' she asked the oldest. She wanted to look nice, it was her first Palm Sunday as a big sister. She couldn't wait to show her friends their new baby. And to taste the warm porridge right after church. Going to the little eatery across the church was part of their Palm Sunday tradition. The place made the best porridge (a soup made of rice, chicken and vegetables). Perfect for warming hungry little tummies on a cold morning after church.

The soup was made warmer by the love they share. Happy for the simple life they have. They have each other, their Mama and Papa would often say. That's what matters. She led saying grace on the table this time. With closed eyes and clasped hands, she said 'Thank you for our baby, my sisters, my Mama, Papa, our dogs and cats. Oh, and our little ducks and baby chicks too. Amen."

She was smiling when she opened her eyes. That was twenty four years ago. Her baby sister is all grown up. And she has a little one of her own now, her own battleship. The last Palm Sunday they were together was nine years ago. Their Papa passed away three days after, it was Wednesday of the holy week. There were only five of them that Easter. All wore white.

It was her family's eleventh hour. Grappling with grief and tears with their eyes, they made a pact to carry on the simple traditions they all cherish. In their hearts, they'll always be together, their Mama said. That's what matters, remember that."

I'll remember, I'll remember.

Perfect Ten

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on archival & acid-free heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

The notion of perfection lies on what we deem are unscathed and unflawed.  Is it in beauty, health, companions, possessions or professions? Is the completeness of everything we desire defines our state of being 'perfect'?  

How many times did we faltered and said 'If only I had this, if only it didn't happened, if only I kept myself from doing it, or if  only I had done it... then everything will be perfect and I'll be completely happy'.  If only we'll learn to stop failing ourselves with all the conditions we set, perhaps we would have been happy earlier on.

It's never too late, today promises us a chance to finally be 'perfect'.  To accept who we really are, thankful of who and what we have and banishing the refutable 'if only's'.  

We are perfectly and wonderfully made, remember that, no 'buts', no 'ifs'.

Lucky Ninth

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Do not quit.
Aim higher.
Be hopeful.
Write more.
Give first.
Play music.
Read aloud.
Beautiful.
Lucky nine.

What’s with all these words? Take your time and read it again, paying attention to its structure.

You got it! These are nine positive phrases with exactly nine letters. Nine mantras to live by today.

Can you come up with yours? Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky too.

Four To Go

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Eighth day.  

I am getting there.  No rush, I'll take my time and savor every sensation in this journey.  The palette is wet, brushes are soaked, my hands are flowing.  I am creating, giving glory to the One who has given me this gift.

Even the flower is rejoicing, petals opened up, praising.  

Four to go.  Four more reasons to be joyful.

Seventh

Click here to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

I like rhymes. I wrote poems just on the premise of rhymes. So typically, I thought of 'heaven' when I wrote 'seven'.

Seventh heaven. The epitome of bliss. It's a tall order to define such a phrase. Heaven itself is indescribable, try expounding it seventh folds. I can muster all my wit in writing but I'll fail to give it justice with my definitions. I lose my eloquence when I'm prodded with all things omnipotent.

The least I can do is trying. Life is like that too. A try-out. A practice season for the real game up^ there, where the final reward awaits. An attempt to be worthy.

Perhaps 'seventh heaven' came to be as a result of experiencing one miracle after the other. Maybe the first one who thought of it has been through seven life-changing spectacles beyond explanation. I wonder how he must have felt like to say 'Ah, this is my seventh heaven.' Was there a near-death experience that made him pronounced it?

I can't tell you what it is or how it feels. One thing I know, we can always try to achieve it by counting our blessings and helping others. Turn someone's ordinary day to a 'miracle' through kind deeds.

Let's do that. Imagine, seven people doing seven little acts of kindness today. Seven miracles multiplied by seven. I'm sure the results will be more than seventh folds. Somewhere along the way, one will say 'I'm in seventh heaven.'

Are you in?

Six

Click on photo to buy this painting.

Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.

Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Six, 6, sixth. Read it aloud again. What comes to mind? The abominable phrase of all things evil.

I pity the number. Is it it's fault to be what it is, to represent the 'otherwise' of good? Or was it a scarlet given by a lonesome, hopeless fellow long time ago. If it only has it's own voice, will it protest the label we put on it? Will it say, 'Give me a chance'.

Chance. Today, I'm doing that. It's time to give 'it' the chance. This isn't just a word play on positive adjectives. This is 'it'. It wasn't at all difficult to ponder on the beautiful sides.

The number '6' is a symbol of fertility, of that amazing gift to produce life. I looked like that when I was pregnant. Tall, skinny with a big 'bloop' (as my husband fondly called my belly) in the middle. I find women sexiest when they're pregnant. I admire those who wish to be one and constantly pray for those who has not been blessed.

I miss those times when I can't bend or see my toes anymore. My husband has this funny picture of me attempting to cut my toenails during my last trimester. I mustered all my yoga moves that time but to no avail. The beauty of being in the 'sixth' figure - you get to be pampered with so much love. And have someone else cut your toenails.

Six. If you're in that 'sixth' stage in life where everything seems to fall out of place, disillusioned, alone, feeling ugly and labeled inconspicuously, give yourself a 'chance'.

Look in the mirror and focus on every curve in your body, mind and soul that is beautiful. Be thankful for who you are. You are an amazing creation. Believe it, live it.

Take Five

Click on photo to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

The grandeur of five's.

Fifth day.

Five paintings.

Five months with my little man.

Five toes and fingers on both sides.

Fifth sibling I lost.

I'll take all five on any given day. Go ahead, celebrate your own five's.

The Fourth

Click on photo to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Life turns like a wheel, my mom would often say. Sometimes you're on top, other times you're down. Either ways, she say, you win. You learn humility when you're at the bottom and cheer more when you're up. What's important is to enjoy the 'distances in between'.

While painting this piece, I contemplated on those times in my life when I ended up fourth. This is the fourth painting anyways, so let me talk about being 'fourth'.

I was an achiever early on. My parents mentored me well when I was going to school. My first taste of victory as a child was when I graduated first honor in pre-school. That was the start. It will be followed by handfuls of academic achievements over the years until I finished college as a cum laude.

Not always the first. Some years I'll end up third, fourth or just in the middle. I stumbled countless times in my attempts to be the best. I learned to get up and move on. That's the beauty of being in the 'fourth'. You're still not there, but you know you're close.

Knowing there's a chance you'll even fail teaches you to remain humble. But there's still a reason to celebrate. If you turn your back, you'll realize you progressed from being the fifth, sixth, and so on. You're still a winner.

Fourth - that beautiful 'distance in between'. Just like this piece, my pledge won't be complete without it.

Mom was right all along.

Thirds and Threes

Click on photo to buy this painting.
Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Third painting, third day on my twelve day pledge. My little man stayed a little longer on his belly-time the third time around today. He didn't like it as much. In fact, he dread those times.
It's a lot of work for a little guy.

If you're doing yoga, that's close to staying in 'down dog' position for the entire half an hour. That's one heck of a work-out. So, I give him a ton of credits every time he tries to stay longer. He gets more cuddling time and smooches from me. Oh, he loves that.

He loves art too. The first day we brought him home from the hospital, he just stared and stared in the huge painting in our living room. And whenever he's cranky, facing him in front of one of my paintings around the house (or any art wherever we are) will sure calm him down. Amazing.

There's no guessing where he got that from. Not surprising to most as I'm an artist, but I'm still perplexed how a three-day old infant back then can appreciate art so much. Perhaps I was one of those 'adults' who underestimated their wits because of their size.

I can tell he liked this piece today. He voted his approval by squinting his bright eyes and wrinkling his nose bridge all at the same time, when I showed it to him.

A leap year, another painting and a baby. Today's significant 'threes'. But only the third will constantly remain to matter the most. At least for me.

Second Tulip

Click on photo to buy this painting.
Acrylic on acid-free & archival heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Second day on my pledge, second painting. I love the contrast of the pinks against the blue background. Subtle yet powerful.

A Dozen Pledge

Click on Photo to Buy this Painting.

'First Tulip' ACEO. Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork. Price $42.

Starting today and in the next twelve days, I'll paint one artwork daily with one theme. No excuses. And what better way to celebrate the coming spring? Paint the season's most popular flora - tulips.

A tulip a day. Twelve paintings in twelve days. A dozen pledge. Another journey.

Are you ready to take the 'pledge'?