I am

I’ve been thinking about how we show up in the world,  in these bodies, to do our work(s).

As I inch toward another year of life,  I see my softening parts and the parts that were always wrong,  and my inner self asks, “How could you not love this body?”  And then there is this knowing that this body is perfect. That there couldn’t be anything better in life than showing up in this skin… You in your skin.. and bones and…

Wildly in love with existing.  With feathers in your hair and dirt under your nails,  sweaty and fulfilled with engagement with this place.

Getting right with God or Soft-bellied, shameless, rich, warm desire

I can write if I get up early enough,  awakened by my stuffy nose and a cough that shakes my whole being.

I’m remembering my old churchy days and how we were “getting right with God.” We were fixing our soul flaws. We were boiling and praying away desire and depth to reveal something empty and pure… becoming vessels to be filled from the outside.

And awake since,  4am, I’m aware that nothing is more pure than desire.

God can handle desire.  I think it’s “us” who can’t handle the soft-bellied nature of desire. Desire gets churched away. She gets govermented away.  She gets lady-liked away.

It’s disconcerting how desire is both vulnerable and powerful.  Desire is purple dust falling from the center of a lily. It’s frightening how desire flickers a hot flame right in the center of you. Desire is an open flower.  Desire is shameless, and rich,  and warm.

Stttrrreeeeeetchhh and breathe

Faces. 6.5

Hello Saturday. Yes,  I am aware of the all day retreat/meeting. I love you anyway ♡ Let me see if I have all my stuff:
– Notebook and pen?  Check.
– Anxiety to the nth degree? Check.
– Anticipating awkward conversations? Check.
– Wanting to be at home in pajamas and in my cozy apartment space? Check.
-Deciding to stretch anyway?  Check.

I promised myself that I would stretch out of my comfort zone and trust the process. At one point I decided to sit away from people with whom I’d be easily comfortable. I almost threw up and then I almost cried, but I let myself feel through those feelings. And then, as the day progressed, I really enjoyed myself. I was stretching out of my comfort zone and into love — self love and the loving people at the event.

I talked and laughed and hugged wonderful women. I reminded myself that even if the day wasn’t OK, I would be.

I breathed and noticed and welcomed feelings of unworthiness to step up and be breathed out as they surfaced. These are the feelings that keep us feeling and playing small.  The kind that keep us from pushing creatively and in funky cycles with our work. They are mighty gremlins,  but breathing is mightier!

I got home and slept off the high intensity people interaction hangover (because September is for self love.) I drank way too much Diet Coke (will need a new coping strategy.) And I kept breathing and stretching into love.

Breathing and stretching into love… and this is the business model and creative path. Amen ♡

Goodbye girl

Not many words today.

Venus. Original on encyclopedia page

Giving love.

Witnessing the power of showing up. Trusting the universe is full and abundant.

And feeling so loved.

Voice 2

There was a knock at the door and I felt panicked. After losing a house,  a car, a beloved family member (not listed in order of priority)… I never lost the fear that something could be taken away from me in an instant or slowly over time. Why do I focus on that stuff sometimes? None of those things was initiated with a knock anyway.

Who knows, maybe I could have won a sweepstakes. There could have been a person with a giant check on the other side of the door. Or a better religion… or a nice vaccuum. 

I don’t like it when I feel afraid like that. I don’t like it when I feel afraid to get it wrong.  It’s too much work to be afraid.  The brush will do something I hadn’t expected.  Life will take a funny turn.  I’ll disappoint, be impatient,  or I’ll even be thoughtless. I was once too quiet because I didn’t have enough money. I wish I wouldn’t have done that. But I didn’t think I deserved to speak. I was afraid to speak because I got the worth of my voice mixed up with the number in my bank account.

I think a lot of us stay too quiet because of money or we just say what we think is going to get us money.  Not in a terrible way, but because we want to thrive. We want to eat. So we say what we have to… or what we think the people with money want us to. Job interviews… What we create. .. How we talk about what create. .. Maybe it’s just me.

Anyway,  I write all of this to set it free.  My voice has hooked up with a raven and she’s flying all over the place with her mouth open. She wouldn’t let me paint her with it closed.  And she wanted a feather tattoo.

And how did she die?

She ain't worried, 6.5

Scrunching my face and almost holding my breath. Clenching my jaw. Tightness in my gut.  These are signs that I’m holding something in. Maybe it’s an opinion,  what I need,  what I want… What I know. How does a woman create when she essentially has her entire insides on lock down? What does she sacrifice in order to be good and proper? Maybe her own life.

How does she open the up again?

Falling, 6.5

Yesterday,  I said “no” and it was hard.  I did it to save my life. Because,  you know,  you can’t live holding your breath and clenching your teeth…All this time, I was hoping to find life in too many “yeses.” Was I secretly hoping that there would be some divine reward for my epic levels of doormat-ary? At minimum,  by relinquishing my own voice and serving up my needs on a silver platter,  I would not be alone… and is there anything sadder that a woman alone? (Not a real question.)

I love that I took a bite of my own needs.  I tasted the sweetness of creating a self-respecting, self-loving boundary. I found my “no” and it cut like buttah. It feels indulgent and sensual.

She’s not empty

I logged in to Facebook to see a friend holding her newborn baby. (I know,  I should really limit my time there,  ha! ) At once,  I “liked” her sweet moment and felt the emptiness of my own uterus.

In so many ways, it seems like I had been preparing to bring life into the world for my whole life. I dressed and designed clothes for baby dolls.  I cut and styled their hair. I can still feel the coils of that synthetic hair wrap around my fingers as I created two neat puffs and then took it down to style it again.

I sniffed their sweet,  plastic skin, and chewed their ten perfect fingers and toes (don’t judge me! )

When did I start dirty dancing with 40? My kid is as tall as I am and on the cusp of teenagerhood. I had wanted more kidlings at some point, but I’m here now and I sort of like our little life. I sometimes feel guilty for not “giving” him a sibling.  I sometimes think it isn’t too late, but then I realize that I’m four years into that high risk zone. But on a more gut level, I’m a few more years into getting to know this body as it’s own vessel.  

I’m full with painting and I writing.  I’m naming my own faith. I’m attempting to grow out my curly,  frizzy,  kinky hair, with love.  (Yes,  I just cut it,  but…)

This is a new phase of life and creativity — an awakening to my own body and voice. Lalalala… my own voice 🙂

Because she was a real bee

Because she was a real bee, mixed media original, Jennifer

 

I was up at 2:38 this morning, and what do you do when you wake up at 2:38 AM besides finally get out of the bed, run a nice bath and paint all 20 of your finger-and toenails “Boom Boom” pink (by Sinfulcolors?)

You think about voice and wings and being a woman…

You think about women, mixed media, and butterflies…because butterflies are beautiful, strong, and tender. But I’m not growing butterfly wings I don’t think.  I think I’m trading them for less aesthetically pleasing, translucent little wings, that move fast.  I might be growing a stinger and six legs…my buzzzzzz might be disconcerting.

I’m sure of it.

I’m sure a woman needs her bee wings.

Once upon a time, I flew in with my butterfly wings and asked my then boss if I could volunteer at my son’s school for 1.5 hours, once a week for 8 weeks.  It was an after school artsy thing sponsored by the PTA.  I’m an artsy kind of lady so they asked and I said that I’d ask.

My then boss denied my request because he felt like he was “losing” me. Losing me?  I was furious.  I was not aware that I had belonged to him or the institution.  The time I asked for amounted to about 1 day’s vacation and my lunch (half) hour (that’s a story for another day.) But more importantly, there was this kid that I birthed and was raising with my mister… I wondered if, when I dropped him off at 7:30 AM and picked him up at 6 PM, he  felt like he was losing me. And what about me?  I was already lost.  I was looking for some piece of me in that after school program, but I had given most of me away…and it was clearly not enough.

Ah, I write tough, but I stayed silent.  I didn’t want to rock the boat.  I didn’t like people being mad at me.  I was afraid to lose…not the job…the peace. But really, there was no peace in the first place.

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(6″ x 6″ signed, limited edition prints of “Because she was a real bee,” are available for $27.  Email me at jennifer.pricedavis@gmail.com for yours or check my website on Tuesday.)

News and a DIY tank top tute: Happening now

In the news… There’s a deer-woman in my shop!  I recorded my thoughts on her and gentle leadership, in my very own voice.  You can listen below.

In more news:  There is a new book of all of the art & a couple of tutorials in the works.  Once I nail down the title (playing with that today.)  I’ll share the details for preordering and obtaining your signed copy…

Her gentleness was her superpower, mixed media (click to view in the shop)

And now the tute!  I made this “body-friendly” tank top this morning and shared it on all the internet places I play, with a promise that I’d share les directions.  I call it body-friendly because it’s loose in the right places and I like where it’s cut just above the hip.  I love easy to wear so very much.

Anywho, there are only three necessary steps, but it will change your wardrobe for-like-ever!

You’ll need a t-shirt that is big on you (so that it can fit loosely) and scissors.  I got this shirt from my mister, but you can also hit up a thrift shop to find the just right shirt…

First, I chose a tank top that fit sort of like I wanted my new shirt to fit (also my mister’s).  You can trace the shirt with chalk if you like.  I’m terrible at cutting on the line, so I kept the shirt in place while I cut. (If you have a smaller tank that you like, you can still use it, just trace/cut about 1-2″ wider than the shape and you should be good.)

 

 

Next, you need to cut the neckline.  I eye-balled about 6″ from the middle and then copied the curve of the tank top neckline.  Each strap ended up being about 2.5-3″ wide.  (You could use chalk to draw it, if you want, and then cut.)

 

Last, I cut the hem about 5-6″ up.  I cut a straight line across.  You just want to choose a length that feels right for you.

You could fringe the shirt if you wanted.  I was planning on it, but then I liked it so much as it is that I left it alone.

If it’s thick enough, you could use the extra material as an infinity scarf.  If you fringe the scarf, that would be awesome!  I might do that later.

I also love it with a scarf I fringed a while back.  It’s just a strip of material I scored at Joanne Fabrics for a little over $1, from the remnants section.  It sort of holds the key to my superpowers, because it’s gold and fringed! (And did I mention that I got the jeans I’m wearing for $3 at a Goodwill.)

I need a chunky turquoise thumb ring and some kinda funky necklace to really love this up, don’t ya think?

Well friends, thanks for playing today!  I need to get my paint and book publishing on ❤

Soft-bellied, chunky legged, and heart aflutter: On being braver than I am (and hoping it isn’t too late)

There is a new resident at the Jennifer Price Davis virtual headquarters.  She is THE soft-bellied mermaid and she casts quite a spell of bravery and Do-it-ness!

Soft-bellied mermaid, 6″ x 6″ mixed media (click image to purchase)

When I prepared the canvas, the word “mermaid” came to me.  I thought back, “No way.”  I have actually never painted a mermaid.  NEVER.  But after I laid down the paper and the first layer of pthalo blue (oh am I in love with this color) paint. Her round belly made itself know to me.  I love how she loves life in her soft-bellied skin. Arms up and through her hair.  Body-adorned. Belly exposed.  Skin-loving.

…And speaking of skin-loving…

I wore shorts for the first time in public, in a looooong time.  I think Madame Mermaid must have spun quite a spell. It feels so vulnerable to love and accept my short, chunky legs.  It feels like I shouldn’t be doing this…I should be cursing them until they shrink, but no… I’m taking lelfies (leg-selfies…do you think it’ll catch on?!) And cutting my hair!  (Scroll it down, my friend.)

I cut it this morning.  Just this very morning, I grabbed the scissors and decided that it was fine that I like my hair short.  I might have to do a whole post on the process, but I can say this now… I decided that my womanness and my beauty, were not community property.  BOOM.

 

This is me editing pictures.  I mostly paint and edit in my glasses so I can see the little details, ha!

And with my new hair cut, I made a call (left a message) that I have needed to make and wrote an email. I had to work up the courage to do both.  The risk of rejection –forget rejection… the risk of annoying the person on the other end — generated a fear that had me in it’s grip…and really, that could mean that I reached out too late.  But I did it.  I reached.  I REACHED. I am breathing a prayer with extra glitter, sparkles, and stars.  Hoping it isn’t too late, but feeling braver than I am.  I love this.