Ch-ch-ch-changes

Reposted from my December 2023 newsletter, edited for this platform.

Perhaps you are like me.  l take my time to adjust to certain things as long as urgency is not part of the equation, especially things of a mild traumatic or emotional nature.

For the final month of 2023, I want to share with you a transformational change that released me from the anxiety and fear which took root after moving to Alaska.

Two weekends ago I hiked up my first 5000' mountain here in Alaska with my husband, and two friends. The day provided calm winds, sunny skies, and temperatures hanging in the low teens. The summit of Harp Mountain was our target.

As always, my field kit came along.

The hot water I carried was no match for the cold temperature. The pigments and brush fibers froze almost instantly after wetting. I anticipated this, but wanted to experience it for myself. Next time, vodka instead of water!

The challenge was on. I put pigment to paper quickly, using the stiff-fibered brushes. All I could really do is push pigment around on the paper like velvety starch.

I rather liked what happened on the paper up on the mountain but, as is so often the case, I let the book sit open on my desk for a week or so before deciding if anything more should or could be done to improve the piece.

Small adjustments to shadows and tone came to mind.

I concentrated on the right-side page. To my eyes, it seemed to have the most interesting base of shapes and forms laid down.

It's possible this happened because, in the field, I worked from right-page to left, speeding up my pace along the way. The left page suffered more from this forced method.

What do you think of the change?

The hike itself was a milestone. I have been a hiker for many years. I've hiked in New England, around the country, and abroad. Alaska hiking frightened me. Bears in the warm season, avalanches in the cold season.

But on this day I made an important choice to do it. Just like I chose to see what would happen to an artwork by playing around with it, knowing both had their own risks.

The power that comes from facing down a fear and the anxiety that comes with it is nothing less than elation!

Transformation is powerful.

To reference the enlightenment of another writer (from RYZE), I am looking down from the top of a mountain instead of looking up from the bottom.

The path looks so much clearer from up here.

And so 2024 is setting up to be yet another transformative year in my life.

It may have taken me three years to beat the fear and anxiety that came with Alaska, but I'm still grateful for the journey.

Here's to more time devoted to making art and writing, more time committed to field adventures!

Have you experienced transformations like this?

Sandy McDermott