Your paintings are so beautiful, Suleika. They appear so soft and gentle -yet have an evocative power. Perceived “failures” tend to be that which does not match our initial intentions. As with most aspects of life, reframing experiences (or reimagining a painting) allows a whole new vision and outlook to unfold. As we all know in this community, much of life is not Plan A. When we allow ourselves to be open to new possibilities, life and paintings are usually more rich. I once was taking a watercolor to a show when a large drop of rain landed on my painting, “ruining” it. As it was a self-portrait sort of response to my mother’s death, I realized later the raindrop enhanced it. Years later as I walked into an art gallery, I was immediately drawn to a small section of a large painting. I commented how much I loved the painting with this amazing part. The gallery owner/artist revealed she was devastated because she had dropped the canvas as she tried to hang it. She admitted that other viewers had the same reaction to her painting! I also see painting as a journey. My best paintings often follow the ones that are not so successful. I truly believe that the more successful ones would not have been produced without making the not so good ones. Perhaps, it’s about working out the kinks, growing and learning!
I am 77 and have just started to paint with watercolors.......I decided I would approach the adventure as a 7-year-old, just let it happen. It is magical and a great experience in letting go. It is a joy.
Hello Failure, my old friend...(not my words-gotta credit Simon and Garfunkel on their original work) I've failed at love yet again. My mother told me long ago, "You're just unlucky in love, Mare." She wasn't wrong. I am holding both truths in two hands, so that I don't topple over. On one side, is the "Letting Go" where I have rented a house and on the other side, knowing I have to have "The Conversation" about moving out and moving on. I am letting go, letting the water on water way of my life, take me where it will and embracing the energy of this unknown and as it dries, accepting that it is what it is. If there is Art in Failure, I am Mary Cassatt, working to place light in the darkness. (Oh, I think she worked in oils...the metaphor still stands)
Good Sunday morning and thank you for your share today, Suleika! I, too, am excited to hear the details of your art show, my middle daughter lives in Brooklyn (not far from Prospect Park) and I am hoping to be able to see your work in person while visiting with Liana. There was a time in my life when I loved to knit. I was a mindless knitter, knitting away while daydreaming or chatting with other knitting women, or watching my children play. Once I knit a scarf for a friend. The yarn was chocolate brown with some variations, thick and soft. I kept knitting and knitting, not paying much attention to how wide and long it was! When I finally completed it, it was more like an extra wide table runner than a scarf! Sheepishly I handed my friend her gift, which she was anticipating for months. She pulled and pulled and pulled it out of the gift bag, laughing, what kind of scarf is this??!! Well, it has become her favorite comfort wrap, a lap blanket, a winter's eve shawl, even a pillow at times. Now, years have passed, and it is well worn and well loved despite its odd size, handful of reverse stitches and a few dropped stitches as well!
You are such a beacon of hope for me. I am battling ALL (waiting for a match and getting ready for terrifying transplant) and I think of you often when my anxiety goes into high gear. When I am on the Other Side, I hope to be the advocate you and John are. Watching American Symphony I wished so badly I was more creative 😂.
A few weeks ago I was performing a storytelling piece at the Magnet Theater, NYC and my mind went blank. I remember my teacher saying “ the audience doesn’t know, instead of panicking, take a few deep breaths, and the story will come to you. And it did!
Why am I crying this morning? Reading these psalms of brokenness and hope? I am weepy with wonder and blessing. How deeply our hearts feel. How hard we try to be our best selves. How tragically unforgiving we are when we fail. And yet, here we are. Leaning into the mystery, radiating vulnerability, not surrendering to despair. This human experience, tragic and beautiful, moves me so.
Suleika, your words are so encouraging. A love letter to those of us who are shadowed by the lie of perfectionism. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
For most of my adult life I have felt utterly invisible. Not seen for the heart that I know I am. I tried to be a good daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend. Tried to measure up to a standard no one can carry. What I failed at was loving myself. Now, finally, I am resting in the knowledge that I am enough. My life is a work of art. Imperfect, free, lovely. After all these years , I am embracing all the possibility of me.
This beautiful community, led by you, Suleika, Carmen and Holly, is akin to a long voyage of discovery. One where I know I am safe and I am seen.
When I write a response to the Isolation Journal’s weekly prompt - I indulge myself by letting my pen and thought go and flow where it will, embarrassing myself and the reader along the page. There are so many talented writers in this group where their words paint the page with poetic perfection that I have to constantly fight through the nagging voice of failure before I can find the kinder more forgiving voice of acceptance and of letting go. This is my safe place to just try something new, to reframe failure as courage. To let the unexpected paint glob, the water soaked faded wing or my run on sentences marred by poor punctuation become part of the unfolding of the whole story. The complete picture. Where the ugly flaws become luminescent.
Thank you, Suleika, for reminding me of your dear mother’s teachings. And, of your own creative struggles. Your generosity humbles me. I am thrilled to hear of your art show. Where and when in June? I might have to book my plane ticket soon. ❤️😊❤️
A wise friend of mine calles those failures “happy accidents”. They lead you to uncharted territory, beyond what you were imagining up to that point. They’re gifts really, we just need to rewire our thinking to see them that way.
Letting go is a luxury-denied those needing a safety net or living in a racist world. "Fani Willis father told her to have six months of cash in the house".
This piece resonates so profoundly. My mother was a very talented watercolor artist. I am an amateur painter working with oils, which is so much more forgiving, but those ‘mistakes’ on a canvas will sometimes make me so crazy that I will worry away at them, trying to get it right- mixing another batch of color and finding that no matter how many times I go over it, it’s not going to be exact. That moment when I let go and walk away is the important part., giving me space and time to realise that those mistakes are really points of interest where grace shows up; and I can leave it, return later and feel a special connection to that piece of the process.
Your paintings are beautiful; thank you for sharing your journey with us all.
You are an artist in a multitude of ways. Your writing, your paintings, your soulful heart. Keep on keeping on, dear Suleika. Also — will you share the details of your art opening with us? I live right down the road in New Haven and will make every effort to see it!
It is so hard to let go. To trust what seems like the imperfections that guide us towards our truth. To not clean up the messes before we have gotten to where they are leading. And the jellyfish make me think of Paul Tran’s magnificent poem called Bioluminescence.❤️
I can’t begin to tell you how these “Isolation Journals” posts & gatherings impact how I navigate the world. As one who self-criticizes constantly, your messages always lift me out of my “poor me,” untalented & desperate to not feel less-than. Why your talented, beautiful self lifts me remains a mystery. I can never match all that fills you with raw beauty & incredible artistry in words or images. Maybe it’s the simplicity of you revealing your vulnerability that strikes me to “get up; try again.” In any case, thank you for your inspiration, no matter the impossible chance of ever meeting in the same physical place.
Smudges and splotches, that is where the magic lies. Your art is so beautiful, so inviting in its color and whimsy. Love it. The art of failure..well, I wouldn't have thought of it but I spent my first year in college many moons ago in the science field, why? It wasn't my passion but somehow I thought that was where I needed to aspire to as I got the grades/points to get in (Irish system). I bombed that first year, took a year out and went to Germany to work as an au pair, learned german that year so I could step right in to classes and an arts degree when I returned home, german, spanish, french studies. I had always had an interest in languages, I just needed the jolt of that first enterprise, I guess, to really spark the interest within. Went on to have a full career with international companies, working around the world, loving on different cultures and using my languages.
I loved reading both of these essays as they mirror my own experiences so clearly. Both as a musician and as a visual artist.
Art is often a happy accident. It needs to have the element of play. Of experimentation and freedom.
In reading the prompt, the first thing I thought of was my printmaking class during my Visual Art Degree. I had a moment where I realized I could be free with the paint, and it felt so liberating.
That is why I remember it so clearly 25 years later.
When we try so hard to do things "right" we lose out on the possibilities.
Your paintings are so beautiful, Suleika. They appear so soft and gentle -yet have an evocative power. Perceived “failures” tend to be that which does not match our initial intentions. As with most aspects of life, reframing experiences (or reimagining a painting) allows a whole new vision and outlook to unfold. As we all know in this community, much of life is not Plan A. When we allow ourselves to be open to new possibilities, life and paintings are usually more rich. I once was taking a watercolor to a show when a large drop of rain landed on my painting, “ruining” it. As it was a self-portrait sort of response to my mother’s death, I realized later the raindrop enhanced it. Years later as I walked into an art gallery, I was immediately drawn to a small section of a large painting. I commented how much I loved the painting with this amazing part. The gallery owner/artist revealed she was devastated because she had dropped the canvas as she tried to hang it. She admitted that other viewers had the same reaction to her painting! I also see painting as a journey. My best paintings often follow the ones that are not so successful. I truly believe that the more successful ones would not have been produced without making the not so good ones. Perhaps, it’s about working out the kinks, growing and learning!
I am 77 and have just started to paint with watercolors.......I decided I would approach the adventure as a 7-year-old, just let it happen. It is magical and a great experience in letting go. It is a joy.
Hello Failure, my old friend...(not my words-gotta credit Simon and Garfunkel on their original work) I've failed at love yet again. My mother told me long ago, "You're just unlucky in love, Mare." She wasn't wrong. I am holding both truths in two hands, so that I don't topple over. On one side, is the "Letting Go" where I have rented a house and on the other side, knowing I have to have "The Conversation" about moving out and moving on. I am letting go, letting the water on water way of my life, take me where it will and embracing the energy of this unknown and as it dries, accepting that it is what it is. If there is Art in Failure, I am Mary Cassatt, working to place light in the darkness. (Oh, I think she worked in oils...the metaphor still stands)
Good Sunday morning and thank you for your share today, Suleika! I, too, am excited to hear the details of your art show, my middle daughter lives in Brooklyn (not far from Prospect Park) and I am hoping to be able to see your work in person while visiting with Liana. There was a time in my life when I loved to knit. I was a mindless knitter, knitting away while daydreaming or chatting with other knitting women, or watching my children play. Once I knit a scarf for a friend. The yarn was chocolate brown with some variations, thick and soft. I kept knitting and knitting, not paying much attention to how wide and long it was! When I finally completed it, it was more like an extra wide table runner than a scarf! Sheepishly I handed my friend her gift, which she was anticipating for months. She pulled and pulled and pulled it out of the gift bag, laughing, what kind of scarf is this??!! Well, it has become her favorite comfort wrap, a lap blanket, a winter's eve shawl, even a pillow at times. Now, years have passed, and it is well worn and well loved despite its odd size, handful of reverse stitches and a few dropped stitches as well!
You are such a beacon of hope for me. I am battling ALL (waiting for a match and getting ready for terrifying transplant) and I think of you often when my anxiety goes into high gear. When I am on the Other Side, I hope to be the advocate you and John are. Watching American Symphony I wished so badly I was more creative 😂.
A few weeks ago I was performing a storytelling piece at the Magnet Theater, NYC and my mind went blank. I remember my teacher saying “ the audience doesn’t know, instead of panicking, take a few deep breaths, and the story will come to you. And it did!
Why am I crying this morning? Reading these psalms of brokenness and hope? I am weepy with wonder and blessing. How deeply our hearts feel. How hard we try to be our best selves. How tragically unforgiving we are when we fail. And yet, here we are. Leaning into the mystery, radiating vulnerability, not surrendering to despair. This human experience, tragic and beautiful, moves me so.
Suleika, your words are so encouraging. A love letter to those of us who are shadowed by the lie of perfectionism. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
For most of my adult life I have felt utterly invisible. Not seen for the heart that I know I am. I tried to be a good daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend. Tried to measure up to a standard no one can carry. What I failed at was loving myself. Now, finally, I am resting in the knowledge that I am enough. My life is a work of art. Imperfect, free, lovely. After all these years , I am embracing all the possibility of me.
This beautiful community, led by you, Suleika, Carmen and Holly, is akin to a long voyage of discovery. One where I know I am safe and I am seen.
I send you all my love and thanks.
When I write a response to the Isolation Journal’s weekly prompt - I indulge myself by letting my pen and thought go and flow where it will, embarrassing myself and the reader along the page. There are so many talented writers in this group where their words paint the page with poetic perfection that I have to constantly fight through the nagging voice of failure before I can find the kinder more forgiving voice of acceptance and of letting go. This is my safe place to just try something new, to reframe failure as courage. To let the unexpected paint glob, the water soaked faded wing or my run on sentences marred by poor punctuation become part of the unfolding of the whole story. The complete picture. Where the ugly flaws become luminescent.
Thank you, Suleika, for reminding me of your dear mother’s teachings. And, of your own creative struggles. Your generosity humbles me. I am thrilled to hear of your art show. Where and when in June? I might have to book my plane ticket soon. ❤️😊❤️
A wise friend of mine calles those failures “happy accidents”. They lead you to uncharted territory, beyond what you were imagining up to that point. They’re gifts really, we just need to rewire our thinking to see them that way.
Letting go is a luxury-denied those needing a safety net or living in a racist world. "Fani Willis father told her to have six months of cash in the house".
This piece resonates so profoundly. My mother was a very talented watercolor artist. I am an amateur painter working with oils, which is so much more forgiving, but those ‘mistakes’ on a canvas will sometimes make me so crazy that I will worry away at them, trying to get it right- mixing another batch of color and finding that no matter how many times I go over it, it’s not going to be exact. That moment when I let go and walk away is the important part., giving me space and time to realise that those mistakes are really points of interest where grace shows up; and I can leave it, return later and feel a special connection to that piece of the process.
Your paintings are beautiful; thank you for sharing your journey with us all.
You are an artist in a multitude of ways. Your writing, your paintings, your soulful heart. Keep on keeping on, dear Suleika. Also — will you share the details of your art opening with us? I live right down the road in New Haven and will make every effort to see it!
It is so hard to let go. To trust what seems like the imperfections that guide us towards our truth. To not clean up the messes before we have gotten to where they are leading. And the jellyfish make me think of Paul Tran’s magnificent poem called Bioluminescence.❤️
I can’t begin to tell you how these “Isolation Journals” posts & gatherings impact how I navigate the world. As one who self-criticizes constantly, your messages always lift me out of my “poor me,” untalented & desperate to not feel less-than. Why your talented, beautiful self lifts me remains a mystery. I can never match all that fills you with raw beauty & incredible artistry in words or images. Maybe it’s the simplicity of you revealing your vulnerability that strikes me to “get up; try again.” In any case, thank you for your inspiration, no matter the impossible chance of ever meeting in the same physical place.
Smudges and splotches, that is where the magic lies. Your art is so beautiful, so inviting in its color and whimsy. Love it. The art of failure..well, I wouldn't have thought of it but I spent my first year in college many moons ago in the science field, why? It wasn't my passion but somehow I thought that was where I needed to aspire to as I got the grades/points to get in (Irish system). I bombed that first year, took a year out and went to Germany to work as an au pair, learned german that year so I could step right in to classes and an arts degree when I returned home, german, spanish, french studies. I had always had an interest in languages, I just needed the jolt of that first enterprise, I guess, to really spark the interest within. Went on to have a full career with international companies, working around the world, loving on different cultures and using my languages.
I loved reading both of these essays as they mirror my own experiences so clearly. Both as a musician and as a visual artist.
Art is often a happy accident. It needs to have the element of play. Of experimentation and freedom.
In reading the prompt, the first thing I thought of was my printmaking class during my Visual Art Degree. I had a moment where I realized I could be free with the paint, and it felt so liberating.
That is why I remember it so clearly 25 years later.
When we try so hard to do things "right" we lose out on the possibilities.
Sometimes it's just hard to surrender.
Thanks for both of these. I really loved them!