To Love Even One Giveaway

There are times in an artist's life where giving back means more than any monetary price a painting could garner. I am not talking about a donation, although those can be impactful, I am talking about a choice to gift a piece of original artwork simply for the sake of having a love fest for the day....which is exactly what happened. 

My world has been spinning in such great directions lately and that makes me deeply thankful. I was taught, and choose to life my life putting that thanks into action. As I woke the other day, I felt a nudge to show my gratitude in some way and as I did, I began to paint...and ponder...and pray. While the brushstrokes danced across the page I realized I wasn't trying to find the perfect idea, it was being created as part of the process...right in front of me, and I knew I was meant to gift it. 

The lines swirled, the paint was fluid, and I clearly saw the image of two figures, one large, one small. Now, if you know me, you know I have this thing about love. It is the force of why I paint, what I paint, and who I paint for. When I tap into this, I tap into the belief that it will change us, one person at a time, one act at a time. This painting resonated that...To Love Even One....

As the painting came close to fruition, I gave a lot of thought to how to gift it. What I landed on, and am beyond grateful I did, was to ask in my FB stream for folks to simply comment on my post how they would creatively love at least one person in their path in a 24 hour time frame. The words began to flow from folks sharing their heart, their hopes, their choices to send light into the world. I could not have asked for a more powerful response. 

Here are a few: 

whisper kind words - Lanie


I do believe so. So often in this world, there is a sense that we are just taking up space and taking up too much of it, at that. We try to make ourselves small - we slump, we hold our magnificence in and when someone positively acknowledges our existence, it can be life-changing. Just that one "little" act of kindness. - Paulissa


I always hug like I mean it....a big solid squeeze:) - Felicia

I'm a oncology nurse. Finding the courage and taking a moment to ask a patient in pain if they would like me to pray is my way of loving those in my path even if it's only for a 12 hour shift. I've only been turned down once. - Jane

You can view the entire post on FB HERE

The time came to pick a winner so I used the random number generator and chose #43. Lisa Tynes won! 

When I looked over the list of almost 50 friends who shared their hearts with me I decided that I wouldn't leave them empty handed. I have been painting like mad the past few months working toward a goal to land a few galleries out of my geographical area. After 11 years, it is time, I have grown artistically and I am excited about the doors opening in my art career. Because of this, there are many pieces I have that I painted several years ago, prints I have held onto, sketches etc. They are markers of my journey, practices, baby steps filled with hope and love.

I am going to be gifting some of these over the next few months...and those who posted with me, they will be gifted first, as my way of saying thank you, keep up the loving. 

(If you were in on the original post, message me your address please at ardithgoodwin@gmail.com) 

Artists are powerful forces in this world. We can choose to use our gifts for many different reasons. I choose love, not only to be my anchor, but to let all other traits such as creativity, hope, courage etc. come from that. 

The Healing Power of Art

There are times in one's life where the path we have chosen gets derailed unexpectedly and in that moment, after the reality of it has seeped into our being, that we have a choice about where we head further. For me, 10 years ago I had to face retiring from teaching little ones, the career that I held dear, the gift I knew that was my passion, I had to let go of. The next years were a challenge, medically, but slowly and surely, my body began to heal and that excitement of finding my gifts again returned. I wish I could tell you it was an easy path, but it wasn't. There were days I felt that I would never be able to give back, never be able to share anything worthwhile with the world, and never be able to experience the joy of teaching again. 

Thanks to some incredible doctors, incredible therapy, amazing family support, and a total miracle from the big guy upstairs, my body has begun to heal this year so that I am able to once again begin to step back into that world of teaching....and teaching art which is my love. There are days I dream about being able to teach full time, days I miss the kids, their bright minds, but when I am surrounded by adults who are on their own creative path and thrilled to be there, I know that I am right where I am meant to be....and I am beyond blessed. 

Life will not always be fair. For me, 26 surgeries later, I live a miracle life. At one point I was on 14 medications a day and riddled with horrific pain. Today, I am on two, and my spirit is clear. What I have come to understand about physical pain is that I will always live with it, it will always be part of the path I am given, but I am no longer held captive by it. I have found a way with my faith, with loving myself, with being nurturing and knowing my limits, that I am managing my pain well enough. I do have days, days where I can barely crawl out of the bed, but those days, as well, are manageable for now, and I am blessed. 

Being alive in this moment, being able to function in the capacity that I can is a complete miracle and part of that healing process for me has been the gift of art. The act of creativity, the expression of emotion through line, form, shape, pattern, and texture, and the connection I have built with other creatives has been a gigantic healing force in my life. For today, I am full of gratitude to be surrounded by beautiful people and beautiful artworks that calm my spirit, lift me up, and push me toward serenity. 

Each Tuesday I am blessed to work with a gifted group of artists at The Lavretta Art Center. From beginner to advanced, they come eager to learn, eager to step out of their comfort zone, and eager to connect with that part of their spirit that we were created to share....the gift of beauty. I can't say enough how grateful I am to simply be back in an environment where I can share the gift I know is God given with others, and be uplifted by it. Though I mourn, at times, the loss of being able to do this full time, I remain ever faithful that life is not contained by chunks of time but of moments. The smaller moments are what really make an impact on each of us, because as we string them together, we create beautiful change within our hearts, and that is plenty for me. With the nature of my spine, at any moment my discs could shatter, could be displaced, could alter my path once again. But for today, I let go of that fear and embrace my place in this one life. I embrace with zeal, with excitement, with the anticipation that all will be well. 

These pics show the artists in my Tuesday groups. I am so proud of what they bring to the table, what they learn, what they apply, and how joyful they are to share their lives with me. Being able to 'teach' once again means more than anyone will know. For every roadblock or tragedy in life, there will be a path to create hope, joy, purpose, and fulfillment in some capacity if we are willing to seek it out. Depression will not hold me back, chronic pain will not defeat me, and the slow apathy that is their shadow will be surrounded by the light of creativity. I can only wish this for each of you. 

We have a great group of art teachers at Lavretta and the City of Mobile offers the most affordable classes you can find in the city. Consider joining us and don't forget, Open Studio with Ginger Woechan is Tuesday nights from 6-8pm where you can come and pay $5 and paint for 2 hours with instruction! Can't beat that deal ever! Peace friends, seek out the light in your world...

The Freedom of Bike Riding Painting

Do you remember the first day you learned to ride a bike without training wheels as a child? Mine was a Saturday afternoon during the summer when we lived in Florida. Banana seated bicycles were all the rage and I had a raspberry blue one, which sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. I can remember the feeling of pure bliss and freedom when my feet, ever so gently pushed one after the other and I managed to keep the wheel and handle bars straight, and it felt as if I was flying! I have never forgotten that day, that feeling, and my need to feel free with reckless abandon. 


These days I can no longer safely ride a bike without some type of training wheel to keep me steady because I have had many spine surgeries and a fall would be life altering. There are days, when I feel the wind in my hair, and hear it whisper to ride, but I know I have to remain still...and steady. That feeling is difficult because with the loss of being active that comes with 25+ surgeries one has to mourn the exciting, playful acts such as riding a bike that cannot be accomplished anymore. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about bike riding, the freedom it gives, the joy and jubilation, so I have decided to spend some time through a series of paintings working through this. 

I first chose a color palette. 

I then took some time to think through my feelings and intuitively began to place color and paper on paper. 

I then began to tinker with color and pattern, but not in a forced way, a more playful way and revisited the lesson of Juliette Crane in my Lifebook class for a bit of inspiration as well.  

My first painting, "The Freedom of Bike Riding", is strictly an intuitive piece based on my love of a playful color palette with collage. The abstraction comes from all the myriad of feelings one experiences while soaring on a bike, and the image is a reflection of the freedom one gains by being upright on wheels. Many times, through a painting, I will think through an emotion that has lingered, and mine would be the sadness over the loss of riding bikes. I hope through the process I can gain some joy of the experience once again, albeit in paint, and  have it take me back to a place and time that gave me much joy. 

Gratitude, Gratitude, Gratitude and one INSPIRATIONAL Prom Dress Story

Let's just say this month has been one for the record books, books I would love to burn, page, by page, by page. But then again, all I have to do is turn on the T.V. or load Facebook to realize no matter how frustrated I am, no matter how exhausting life seems to be, no matter how impatient I have been, there are far worse things to deal with in life....and I am beyond grateful not to have to be dealing with them. My platter is plenty, thank you. 


Two things of significance happened this morning, despite the chaos that surrounded them.

 1. As I lay in bed enjoying the view of my bedroom, which at this point I could probably draw with my eyes closed, I realized I am surrounded by love....much love, and though I hate having to spend as much time in bed, I am grateful that my place of rest is a beautiful one. Here are some pics of my bedside. My bible is closest, though I truthfully admit it is not used as often as it should be. The notes from my sweet hubs stand as reminders when he is gone, or laying next to me, of his quiet love, the love I cherish. My reading list, at the moment, creates a beautiful sculpture of line and color, which speaks to my artistic spirit and seems to give my intellectual side the umph it needs to reach out and read, which at times has been hard. And then there are my candles. They help calm my mood, my spirit, and my senses, which are ever so helpful these days. These may be tiny little things to most people, but in my every day existence, these are the things that make life worth living, and make it beautiful. 

2. After becoming royally peeved with insurance and Medicare and 'stuff' I turned on Facebook to find a link my friend Joy had posted about a single mom who just happened to write a blog about her struggles, which included a pic of this "TO DIE FOR" prom dress she desperately wanted for her daughter . Now, truth be told, it was the dress that actually got me hooked, I mean, hooked enough to click on the link and read the blog, but it was the story behind the dress that blew me away. I sat with chills and almost tears....of amazement, of guilt, and of the notion of a tiny little voice, deep inside my heart saying, "Flush, and get off the pity pot." It was then that I realized how, once again, I live such a blessed life, that God takes care of me in ways I don't deserve, and that despite all the horrid news reports and media coverage about how the world is so screwed up, there are wonderful, decent, loving people intermingled in all that mess. Here is Michelle Grimm's Blog, A Magical Moment, A Dream Dress, and I simply want to encourage my readers to stop long enough to read her story, you won't regret the 5 min....promise, promise, promise!

Michelle's Blog

Life is hard, life is beautiful, but life can be, at times, harder to bear than we believe it should be. I can only speak for myself, but I am choosing to embrace love not hate today, friendship not hardship, life rather than death, gratitude rather that complaints, and faith rather than doubt. For today, that is the best I can do. 

Ten Words, One Prayer

Each day I get to work on art about 15 min. at a time, which is part of my rehab. This is a challenge because me, being such a boundaries master, lol!, feels like it's only about a blink. So, as I lay in bed surrounded by the supplies I knew would be manageable, I felt drawn to words, but had no clue which ones. When this happens, I always take a deep breath,, or two, or three, and as I opened my eyes I felt led to grab the book sitting next to me on my night stand, "Classic Paintings." It's a tiny, lovely book, printed in France, long, long ago, so I turned to the page by the supervising publisher, Germain Bazin, and wrote the first ten words that spoke out to me:


YIELD, COMPASS, WISH, ATTAINMENT, COLLOQUY, SOUL, ABSORBED, SENSES, DAWN, AND SMALL.


As soon as I saw the words I had written it was as if a wave of grief came over me. For the past few months the news has been filled with despair, wars, death, tornadoes, destruction, and hate. So, as I closed my eyes, took a deep, deep breath, this prayer for peace came to me. I share it here with you, on the eve of Memorial Day when so many of our loved ones are honored and hope this prayer brings you solace and peace, in a world where it is so deeply needed.

This was my journal entry.

It's Gonna Be All Right

There are no coincidences. I truly believe this. As much as I believe there is a God who loves me, I believe there is an evil force in our world trying to conquer my significance and light. In these two truths, at least to me, I believe nothing happens by chance. I believe one of these two forces in my world, God or evil, moves and life reacts around me, and I to it. Strong beliefs, yes. Controversial, to some. But in this year of my life, I am boldly saying, you don't have to agree with me, this is who I am, this is what I believe, and I love you regardless.

Two weeks ago I had my neck fused. Many of you know this, but many of my new fans and friends may not. Actually, this was my 23rd surgery, no car wreck, just a joint disease that has been a challenge since I was 23. Despite the physical limitations I have faced, the pain, the tears, I have and still believe I live a beautiful, unimaginable life, and am grateful.




Surgery is hard. Many of you know this, and many of who may be facing surgery are probably apprehensive, scared, and worried. I was, with every one. I have also had to deal with the post-operative depression that comes afterwards. Not to everyone, but to some, and to me, often. Part of it is meds, part pain, part life issues that surround me, but like my approach to everything, this will not conquer me, it's gonna be all right.


Today, after almost two months, my Occupational Therapist worked with me to begin painting again. Not a masterpiece, just a simple piece of art to teach me how my posture and adaptations will change for the rest of my life if I want to keep painting. The neck brace, it will be my new best friend. I kinda look at it at this point as an albatross around my neck but I will mentally deal with that because expressing myself creatively is a must, and I will not allow my physical limitations to conquer me either.

The back brace is a new, and constant friend, too. The collar keeps my neck from bending down, the brace helps my core stay stable. And, as I am told, starting small, with baby steps is what I must do, so I will. I wanted to share these with you, because many of my friends struggle with neck and back pain who are artists. If you know of any art friends who face these same issues, please share my blog with them. I have found limited resources and would love for them to know they are not alone. These are my adaptations, but they just might help you as well, especially if you are healing like I am. The painting is simply a start. I have no clue what it will turn into, but it felt good to put paint to paper and feel connected to the artistic spirit that flows within me.


And in the midst of all of this, life can actually fall apart, or it seems. Tears will flow, fears will become real, but in those moments I stop myself and simply breathe, breathe in God, breathe out everything else. My dear friend Terri Keller knows this, and for us, and hopefully many of you, those moments are what becomes the glue to our sanity.


A few hours ago I checked my Facebook page and my blessed college friend Pam had posted a video for me that made her think of me. This is where I know, coincidences don't happen. Every word of that video I needed to hear, to know, to believe, and there it was on my page. God is like that. To me, it's not about religion, it's about a loving God who knows how to gently reach out is hand, even through FB, and say, "I have you, I love you."







As I researched more about Sara Groves, this artist, her song, "It's Gonna Be All Right" struck a chord, especially the quotes. I felt the two videos simply needed to be shared, for private reasons, and for the simple fact that someone out there might need to know, IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT, in time, in faith, with the support of others. I love all of you, I love that you follow my stories, my journey of courage and healing, but most of all, that you love me for me, faults and all. Stay strong my friends, it can be overcome, it can be done, and WE WILL HEAL!

A Snail's Pace is Perfect

It has been almost two months since I created, painted, or delved into that whimsical world of mine that is as much a part of me as my faith. Actually, I believe they are intertwined, and the time has been oppressive. That doesn't mean I have laid wailing and whining about a horrible life, on the contrary. My life is blessed beyond measure. It simply means there are parts of us, that make us each unique, and when one or more of those parts slip away, the person begins to fade just a bit. In my world, I hate to fade. 


One week ago I had my neck fused. Surgery isn't new to me, but what that means in reality is that the creative process will take a bit longer to come back full circle. This morning, I went into my studio, lit a candle, and breathed in God and breathed out everything else. I have missed this place. The place of being surrounding by color, and potential, and imagination, but mostly the place where God is in the midst of it. As I sat, I pulled out a quote by Ira Glass and spent a long, southern bit of time pondering it, kinda like my grandpa used to do on the front porch in his rocking chair. 

What I gained from this is that part of healing is loving myself enough to believe a snail's pace is perfect for now. I may draw a line on a paper, I may simply dream in color, watch the sun dance through my colored glass window, or I might even go back to my all time love of Play-doh. No matter the pace or the product, the beauty is that for me, creativity doesn't have to be limited to making a painting or a collage. It is simply part of who I am, part of my beautiful world, and God has been surrounding me with it the entire time. 

It is easy to feel defeated. Physical pain can zap my zeal in an instant. Emotional and Mental Pain can completely debilitate me. But for today, I am choosing to embrace my creativity in much smaller ways, find the juicy tidbits of joy that surround me, and give myself permission to create anything, knowing full good and well the best of me will show itself when it is meant to. In that I am content. 

Regardless of where you are, I hope his quote encourages you to see that creativity is meant to be experienced daily, in some form, no matter how small.....nothing or no one is insignificant!

For the Love of All Living Things - Postcards From the Gulf

As an artist, I get bombarded with charities wanting me to donate an original piece of artwork for worthy causes. As much as I would love to donate to each one, it simply isn't possible so I pick and choose those I am most passionate about, like the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and The Alabama Children's Hospital. In light of the terrible events this past April when the oil spill devastated our coast line and natural habitats, my artist friend Val Webb decided to start an art event called Postcards for the Gulf. All of the proceeds will go to help clean the animals most affected by the oil spill, and that is one group in need that I was more than happy to paint for. 


It was difficult at first, trying to narrow down exactly the perfect subject to paint on only a 4" by 6" postcard. I mulled over it, thought about which living beings I most loved, and repeatedly I was drawn to the Damsel Fly. I have always been fascinated by them and Dragon Flies, because of their beautiful, iridescent colors, but more so because they simply seem like such gentle beings, flitting here and there and adding only beauty to this planet. The thought of one of them lighting on a reed covered in oil gave me the chills and I prayed that these tiny, lovely winged insects would be safe from harm. 

And, as I often do, I had to combine the art of writing with the art of painting. My piece is a mixed media collaboration of acrylic, ink, collage, and watercolor. The photo doesn't do a whole lot of justice to the iridescence of the piece, but it is close enough. Nov. 14 during LODA Artwalk this, along with dozens more will be sold for $50 a piece. They will go on sale this Tuesday from the Postcards From the Gulf website as well. 


I wanted to thank Val for putting together such a wonderful art project that will make such a difference. The prayer on my card states this:


May we once again strive to be PROTECTORS of the natural world around us and may the sheer beauty and value of life in every living thing become more important than man's need to please himself. 


I thank God for the beauty of our planet and pray daily for its protection.

Art at the Murray House

A fellow artist and friend, Connie Hozvicka, wrote a blog the other day about what it means to hit the big time as an artist. The thought perplexed me. For months I have tossed that concept around, chewed on it, tip toed around it, and occasionally given it up for dead. Alas, it would never leave me, and then I read a blog about the exact same thing and I knew, like I was breathing, that it was something I must come to grips with. Some greater force in this crazy artistic world knew I needed an answer to that big time question so I threw in the towel and decided to really pin my thoughts down about it. During the pinning, I was invited to go cut and paste with some ladies in their 80's and 90's, and I oh, so couldn't pass that up......idea on hold yet again.

The Murray House is a retirement center in the heart of Mobile on lovely Dauphin Street. I have passed it many times, but never had the opportunity to visit, until Jami Buck rang my phone and invited me. Her dear friend Annette Simmons, who is sister to a dear friend of mine, Mary Beth Culp, lives there and Jami had thought the idea of doing an art class at the center would be grand. I was thrilled and suggested we do an art party for Annette, work with collage, and we both got excited. Now, we knew the ladies would be in their upper years, some of them artists in their earlier days, but we actually had no idea, other than Annette, who we would play with. I say play because art is always play to me, or it should be at least. 

When we arrived, we had met our four ladies, which turned to six, which turned to seven, which ended up at nine! And, rather than freak out, we rolled with the punches, shared supplies, and had a lovely time with these ladies. They all, well into their 80's and 90's still had their wits about them, were quite hilarious to be honest, and had a come back for every joke we threw at them. They loved the color palettes we worked with and some of the images brought back happy memories for them, of pets, and family, and things they didn't like. They told a bit about their occupations, Flora Mary was an elementary school principal at Mary B. Austin and Annette, who was an occupational therapist for children, was also an artist. It was just a great experience sharing art with them and here is why....

That hitting the big time question came full circle to me during this event. With total clarity, at least for me, I realized that hitting the big time as an artist was in this moment. It wasn't about being 'discovered', selling a piece for a ton of money, getting into what some would say is 'the best' gallery. It also wasn't about me getting my name out there or about me trying to network or sell my art. All of that, which is necessary for a professional artist, is trivial to me really. What means the most, what tells me that I have hit the big time as an artist was the look on Lurlee's face when she clapped, and with teary eyes, said, " This is so much fun, I had so much fun." Yes folks, clap your hands, I have hit it big! 

Thanks Jami for this photo, love it!

After we left, we learned that many of those women were the movers and shakers of their time in Mobile. Mary Abbey Berg, who now has a senior center named after her,  was not thrilled at the temperature, but she was pleased with her finished piece, especially the use of the word "fearless." I hope and pray that when I am their age I still feel fearless and am able to create art in some capacity. But more than that, it would mean the world to me if I am in a place like the Murray House, to have some young, whipper snapper artists like me and Jami show up with paper, scissors, glue, and paint ready to make art. 

Annette added the phrase "Don't Be Afraid" to her collage

Ms. Sullivan was a hoot, kept us on our toes.

Their finished pieces, which I think are beautiful!

Flora Mary thought out of the box, loved her!

Can you tell they were loving this?

Annette's finished collage

Mary Abby Berg's finished collage

I have seen with my own eyes how our elderly folks are forgotten and it's heartbreaking. The Murray House seems full of love and it's clear that they have families who visit and love them, which is rare for so many their age. If you are an artist, I hope you would consider hitting the big time with me and volunteer at a senior center. We will be there one day won't we? 

In Tribute of Michael Dahl Jr.

When the phone rang some time ago and I saw the California area code, I knew who it was, and my heart sunk a little bit. Not because I didn't want to talk to this person, but I knew the conversation would be one of heart break and courage, and I prayed I was up for it. Last year I painted the Soldier's Cross of Courage and blogged about the process. Part of that process was honoring the soldier who had died the day the cross was created, Michael Dahl Jr., and this phone call was from his mother. A mother whom I had never met or talked with, but one who loved her son deeply and wanted to say thank you. 

Michael was the only soldier to die that day and after much prayer I knew it was in his honor that I used my artistic gifts to give a humble, simple thank you to him, and to all our service men and women who sacrifice so much so that I might live freely. This weekend is July 4th, Independence Day, and I find it quite beautiful that after a year of not being able to contact this family, and through the wise counsel of my mom, they contacted me. I had always wondered what Michael was like. My son is 19 and as I looked at him, I couldn't imagine what it would have been like to lose him. Patricia Dahl spent a good while sharing the story of her beautiful son with me, and here, I share a little bit of his story with you. 

Michael was a Christian who loved God with his whole heart. She told me how he kept his electronic bible with him and he would seek out church services to attend. He was two weeks from coming home when an IED damaged the tank he was driving. Patricia told me how great of a son he was, that he had the opportunity to thank her for being a great mom, and was looking forward to coming home, with his best friend, and attending a Laker's game. His younger brother adored him and to me, he sounded like a really phenomenal human being, which made my heart hurt because of such an enormous loss this was. 

After we talked for a while and exchanged our addresses I  promised her I would send her a copy of the cross. I then went and read about his memorial service in his town of Beaumont, Ca. and it became quite clear how much he was loved and will be missed. Being an artist is rewarding in  many ways, but I must say, this experience, to me, is what sharing our gifts with the world is all about. I could have been painting sea oats or magnolia leaves that day but I chose to listen to my heart instead. I'm grateful I did. Of course, I would have much rather learned about Michael for different reasons, but I trust the link where our paths crossed and know God will use it. 

I still find it strange that in our day to day lives it is so easy to be unaware, or apathetic, towards the loss of life in the wars abroad because it doesn't touch us personally. I challenge you on this Independence Day weekend to find a soldier, learn about him, honor him, and really discuss what it means to live in an independent country. I will never look at the flag again without thinking about Michael, or the lives who were lost from the day our country drew its first breath. I will never watch the fireworks on July 4th without seeing past the beauty of them and not understanding the sacrifices so many make for me to sit and enjoy them either. 

I love our country. I don't love war or the losses that happen because of them, but I understand the necessity of some of them. If I were a mother that lost a child due to the war, it would mean the world to me to know that he wasn't forgotten and didn't serve in vain. Thank you God for guiding my gifts to make a difference in one person's life. May I never take that gift for granted or forget what it means to be able to do what I love. 

Here is the link to one of Micheal's memorial articles and the picture of the Soldier's Cross of Courage. If you feel led, please share Micheal's story. 

Michael Dahl Jrs. Memorial Article

And here is the link to the original blog about the cross from last year:

The Soldier's Cross of Courage

Happy Fourth of July to you and your loved ones!

Ardith

Fight the Oil Spill with Art

What a month this has been! The news about the oil spill was jaw dropping and day by day it seems to get worse. Some days, I didn't know if I could bear to watch the news or not, and others kept my eyes glued to the tube. It's hard for me to believe that the lack of oversight and actions by a few could cause such a catastrophe but they did. I shouldn't be surprised should I? Minute by minute my emotions change from anger, to deep sadness, to WTH and I am sure most of my friends and family feel the same way. 

Yesterday, oil made it's way to Dauphin Island and Gulf Shores. Those are two places I hold near and dear. As a child, my grandfather and uncles worked tirelessly to build a cabin off of Fort Morgan and our entire family spent the summers there. If I close my eyes I can recall walking in the blistering hot sand as we unpacked the car. No one could play until that car was unloaded. The dunes stood almost higher than our houses and we had tons of fun rolling down them. In the evening, the big guys would take a net out and pull it in and we were able to pick through the bounty the Gulf provided. Those were the days, some of my most precious moments as a child. 

Dauphin Island is also precious to me. When I first started dating Bill almost 14 years ago our second date was at Bright Waters. He had a beach house on the West End that faced the Gulf and I can remember like it was yesterday when I pulled up and saw Brandon picking oyster shells in the driveway and little Katie running around like a water fairy. Most of our weekends were spent there when it wasn't rented and it was a magical place, for family, for taking in the beauty of the island, and I miss it terribly. Sadly, Hurricane Ivan took the house, and before we could rebuild, Hurricane Katrina took the lot, so our time at Dauphin Island ended, which left a deep hole in our hearts. 

As we watched the oil spill, the enormous plumes gushing out of the pipe, and took in the new, "oil forecast", we quickly realized that life along the coast was going to change for a long time. Friends from up north seemed concerned, but until you have visited the Gulf I fear one just can't comprehend the beauty of it, and the loss of it. As an artist, it is difficult to sit by feeling helpless, in fact, I can't stand that. So, many artist are coming together to do what we do best, PAINT!

Several auctions will be hosted between here and Pensacola in the coming weeks. The first one I am participating in will be at the Mobile Arts Council here in Mobile. "The Green Room" is an auction celebrating the mission of The Mobile Baykeepers. That organization works so hard in keeping our coast, bay, and watershed clean and the animals protected. Proceeds will be split between them, Mobile Arts Council and the artist, but I just may donate my share as well. 

Here is the painting I am donating for it, "Mermaid Angel Prayer." I love mermaids, and I thought turning one into an angel for the animals would be swell. There is a poem around the edge, it goes like this:

Mermaid Angel sent from Heaven, 
listen to her prayer, 
a prayer for all the creatures, 
in the ocean, land, and air. 

Protect them from the harm
that is around them everywhere,
from human greed and actions
causing harm with needless care.

Protect them one, 
Protect them all, 
these creatures great and small. 


It's a simple poem but one that I feel has a powerful message between the lines. My heart is breaking. I am holding close to my faith during these times, praying for a miracle, but it seems that the actions of man are too damaging to reverse and I can only imagine God's heart is breaking as well. I will encourage all of you to find some way for your gifts to help the cause of protecting our coast. It sure is better than sitting by and waiting for the sky to fall, or shall I say, the black wave to roll in!

The Soldier's Cross of Courage

As I write this, somewhere in Afghanistan or abroad, and American soldier has just been wounded or killed in battle. Let that sink in for a minute. You are in a safe place most likely, reading this in the comfort of your home on your phone, and an American soldier has just had his or her life ended or tragically changed forever. How humbling that is to me. For the past years I have watched the war on TV, got frustrated over it, not understood it really, but the reality of the cost to American lives and families never really sunk in until this week. Going to http://icasualties.org I checked to see if a soldier died today. The last soldier listed died Oct. 17th, Spc. Michael A. Dahl Jr., 23, of Moreno Valley, Ca.,died Oct. 17 in Argahndab, Afghanistan, of wounds suffered when enemy forces attacked his vehicle with an IED. He was assigned to 1st Battalion, 17th Infantry Regiment, 5th Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, Fort Lewis, Washington. Details about Spc. Dahl can be found here, http://freedomremembered.com/index.php/spc-michael-a-dahl/I don't know him, his family, what his life story was, all I know is that he is no longer with us and his family and friends are grieving the loss of someone they cherished and loved dearly. I can't really imagine. Because the media isn't allowed to show the caskets brought home on TV, I believe apathy sets in, at least for me I became desensitized to it, and for that I am horrified.

When I began the journey of painting crosses God put on my heart to paint one for our soldiers. For weeks I thought about it, how I would paint it, what it needed to have in it. The thoughts were not easy. I began researching lives of soldiers and how many wars Americans have fought in. I thought about my brother, my dad and uncles and cousins, my friends, and all who work and fought to serve our country. Then I began to pray and talk to God about it. After praying, the painting you see here began to evolve. A friend suggested the verse in Joshua but I was leaning towards one in Jeremiah. When she explained why the Joshua verse was so fitting, I prayed about it too, and God clearly said to share his story with soldiers, so I am. Joshua was going into battle himself, he was discouraged, he was afraid, and God said this to him: "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."

What a powerful message, so it became the story and verse behind my motivation for this cross. I knew I wanted each branch of the military represented, but I didn't want it to be political. I added the five main branches by painting their emblems. I then thought about soldiers who are Christians, who pray for their fellow brothers and sisters who serve, and who die in battle. But I also thought about soldiers of different beliefs as well, so I chose to pray for all of them. The center represents the soldiers cross. When a soldier dies, they put the rifle in the ground, hang his or her hat on it, and lay the boots at the base. What a powerful image. I also wanted to honor the unknown soldiers who died in battle, so I painted the memorial for that, with a soldier in salute. On the cross is an angel, arms around the soldier's cross, for protection of those who serve their duty to country. The cross itself is purple, the color of courage and of the purple heart. The green border line represents life, which I pray and claim for each soldier at home and abroad. The 21 red dots represent the 21 wars our country has fought since its creation. The face of the angel is tri-colored, representing soldiers of different races, but Americans, who fight and defend our country. The flag sits behind the cross, but most importantly, the words, IN GOD WE TRUST, sit on the cross, to remind all of us that OUR country was founded under God, and regardless of religions, we put our faith in him as Christians for protect our loved ones as they serve and to provide for their families here at home. The word COURAGE is bold, because it takes great courage to volunteer to leave one's family and country to go fight in a war to defend our freedom. Joshua 1:9 sits in the background, not to overshadow the cross, but to remind those who serve that they are not alone, that others have gone before them, and that God is with them , wherever they go in battle or service to country. It is also painted in yellow, but when you move to the left or right, it glows blue, a color true to our our nation.

That's what the colors and symbols mean, but this is what it means to me. For the past couple of weeks as I worked on this cross, my left arm and neck began to really bother me. I knew I had neck issues, and had just bragged about feeling better after spending a year recovering from a lumbar spinal fusion. I went to have an MRI and found out that I had ruptured a disc in my neck and have a spur that is impinging on the nerve. I now face a possible surgery, my 21st, but am praying there will be options to avoid that. As I knew my own body was in pain while I painted it occurred to me how much pain our veterans live with on a daily basis. How much pain a family endures when they watch their loved ones walk on that plane to be gone for a year or two, and most of all, how much pain a family feels when they hear the words that their loved one has died in action is pain I will never know. My pain is easy compared to that, so on I painted and on I prayed. I prayed for those we have lost, and those who have been injured. I prayed in thanks for those who serve to support us here, their families, who quietly do their duty each day with little thanks. I prayed in thanks for my brother and dad and family members who serve or have served their country and felt proud to honor them through this cross. And then I prayed that this cross would reach those it was meant for, that it would bring them hope, relieve their fears, and possibly put a smile on the face of at least one soldier sacrificing his or her all, so I could paint it. For that soldier and all of them, THANK YOU!

I pledge to honor our heroes, those who serve, and those who have fallen serving. Freedom is not free. My challenge to you is to choose to share this cross and its story with those you love, those who serve, and may it be an artistic way to remind us all to never forget, to lift up in prayer, and to never take for granted the sacrifices they give so that we may live such comfortable lives in our great country.(To see the steps in the creation of this cross on FB join my fan page, The Artwork of Ardith Goodwin)