Day of the Dead: Cempasúchil

Incluso en el silencio de la pérdida,
podemos oír los suaves susurros de nuestros seres queridos,
que siguen con nosotros, sus espíritus danzando en nuestros corazones,
que nunca se han ido, sino que florecen para siempre.

Even in the stillness of loss,
we can hear the soft whispers of our loved ones,
still with us, their spirits dancing in our hearts,
never gone, but forever blooming.
―Source

My latest painting is close-up of a marigold in honor of Day of the Dead.  In Mexico, the flower's vibrant color represents the sun and their strong fragrance is known to help guide the souls of the departed back to visit their loved ones at this time when the veil is thin.  They help shift the focus from mourning to celebration as symbols of affection, memory, and enduring connection.  "Para los que ya no estan" means "For those who are no longer with us." This painting is dedicated to my Mom. 

Inspiration

In late August I went to the big local plant store called Natorp's.  When I walked in the front door I was greeted by gorgeous, bright, orange marigolds.  I liked them, but saw that they were the "African" marigolds with the big heads.  I was under the impression that the "regular" marigold were hardier.  I passed them by and went about my business.

On the way out I thought I would go look at them again, when a man who worked there happened to walk by.  I asked him if I could plant these big-headed marigolds in the ground and he told me they would do great in the ground and assured me they were quite hardy.  I bought three and planted them in the very front of my yard.  It is now November 5th and they are still going strong!

Right after Halloween I was walking by them and they were so bright and cheery I took some photos.  That night it occurred to me that I could do a Day of the Dead painting of them.

The early morn lets out the peeping day

And strew'd his paths with golden marigolds...

―Phineas Fletcher

Process

I began by blowing my photo up to the size of my paper and made a tracing of the petals.  I forgot to take a photo of that, but below are the next steps in the process.

After the last step above I usually spend a fair amount of time darkening the darks and lightening the lights.  Below you can see how my desk looked at this stage.

Type and Ornaments

After I fussed with it for way too long, I called it done and scanned the painting.  I had worked on creating the type and graphic elements in Illustrator before I started the painting.  I then mocked it up in Photoshop with my photo reference.  Once I had painted and scanned the painting, I had such fun working on the placement of both the type and ornaments.  Below you can see six options.

I had a hard time choosing which one I liked best.  I posted my favorite at the top of this blog post and below you can see my second favorite.  In my favorite, I liked the way the shape of the flower led up to the words.  In my second favorite below, the white graphic ornaments against the dark background reminded me of bones, which seemed appropriate.  And I had fun letting one single orange petal hang over the edge of the bottom border.  It was hard not to choose this one because I liked that element so much.  

Cempasúchil

"Mientras el cempasúchil florezca en la Tierra, nuestro amor vivirá por siempre."

As long as marigolds continue to bloom on Earth, our love will endure.

―Aztec legend

After I bought the marigolds from Natorp's, I looked up "African marigolds." I learned the proper common name is the Mexican or Aztec marigold.  This mis-attribution came about because traders brought the plant to Africa where it easily naturalized along the coast.  It was then imported to Europe, where it was named by botanists.  The flower, however, is native to Mexico and the scientific name is Tagetes erecta.

I also learned the Nahuatl (Aztec) word for this plant is cempashúchil.  The word comes from the Nahuatl word cempohualxochitl. It is a compound word made up of two parts:

• Cempohualli (or zempoal): meaning "twenty"

• Xochitl: meaning "flower"

It literally translates to "twenty flower" or "flower of twenty petals.  And behind this name lies the following legend:

"The cempasúchil flower was created from an Aztec legend about two childhood sweethearts, Xóchitl and Huitzilin, who swore an eternal vow of love before the Sun God, Tonatiuh.

Their happiness ended when Huitzilin was killed in battle. Devastated, Xóchitl climbed a sacred mountain and begged the Sun God to reunite them. Moved by her grief, Tonatiuh touched her with a golden ray, transforming her into a tightly closed flower bud on the hillside.

Soon after, Huitzilin was reborn as a hummingbird. He flew to the mountain, guided by the bud's sweet scent, and gently landed on it. Recognizing her lover's touch, the flower instantly burst open into twenty radiant, sun-colored petals.

Today, this eternal reunion is why the flower's bright color and strong scent are used during Día de Muertos to guide spirits back home." (Google)

  

When I was first thinking about the layout of this painting, I thought about making it a square with the focus on the Nahuatl word Cempasúchil instead of "Day of the Dead."  Although the shape of the painting ended up a rectangle, I realized I could still play with this option.  Below are my two finalists.

I thought I would like the option with the petal overhanging the border.  But when I put them next to each other I was surprised I liked the more vertical option.  Below you can see it larger.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides,
that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

—Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Ofrenda (Altar)

Traditionally during Day of the Dead ceremonies, it is customary to make an ofrenda, or altar, for loved ones who have passed.  It is a way of welcoming their souls for a brief reunion with the living.  If you have never made an altar, it is a lovely way to honor family and friends who are dearly missed.  It doesn't have to be complicated.  Typically, you put items around their photo that remind you of them and light a candle.  It could be their favorite food, flowers, or drink.  It is also common to include water, sweet bread (pan de muerto), sugar skulls (calaveras de azúcar), tissue paper banners (papel picado), incense, salt, or personal momentos.  

I love this tradition of making an altar.  In the altar I made my Mom (shown below), I  included my three Xoloitzcuintli (Xolo) clay dogs as they are believed to help the dead on their journey and guard their souls.  Also, my Mom loved dogs.  Plus, she had a large collection of stone owls and I inherited the one in the photo.  I also included a candle.  The simple act of thinking about my Mom and the things she liked, made me feel near to her...like somehow she was there with me as I lit her candle.  I plan on framing my marigold painting and hopefully next year I can place it on the altar.

But the most important element of the altar for me was the flowers.  My Mom was an amazing gardener and had quite the green thumb.  I was so happy the marigolds I planted in August lasted until November so I could include them. When I went out into the rainy garden to cut a few marigolds for the altar, I particularly felt my Mom's presence.  As I cut the flowers and smelled their pungent, earthy aroma on my fingers, I became aware of the scent of fresh cempashúchiles surrounding us both, drawing us close, and connecting us, if only for a brief moment.  Gracias a la vida, Gracias a la vida.  

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto:

me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto—

así yo distingo dicha de quebranto,

los dos materiales que forman mi canto,

y el canto de ustedes, que es el mismo canto

y el canto de todos, que es mi propio canto.

Gracias a la vida, Gracias a la vida…

Thanks be to life, that has given me so much:

Given me laughter and given me tears

So I can tell joy from sorrow,

Which are the two sources of my singing

And of your song too, which is the same song

And the song of you all, which is my own song

Thanks be to life, thanks be to life

―Violeta Parra

Happy Halloween!

"Magic is the very essence of it all. It’s spirit, the life force, that creative, inexplicable power which we all possess and seek to express in the world. How well we manage to do that is a totally individual matter.

— Lucius Mattheisen

My favorite season is fall and Halloween is, by far, the funnest of all holidays IMHO.  So I decided I would continue my gouache experiments this year by painting a Halloween scene.  A couple years ago, I saw a printed fabric patch of a toad made by Addie Best (check out her amazing patches here!).  They sold out before I could buy one.  But that toad has stuck in my head for years and ever since I have wanted to make toad art.  This was the perfect opportunity.  My first thought was to have a little witch riding a toad in the moonlight.  But then it occurred to me that I didn't want her exploiting the toad.  So I then thought to make her giving him a kiss.

The day I finished the painting was about a week before my husband George's birthday (process video below).  I had been toying with the idea of throwing a Halloween birthday party.  But my sister and her husband were going to be visiting and I wasn't sure if it was too much.  Originally they were going to be leaving the day of George's birthday.

(Music by Alex Ps from Pixabay)

Then, they changed their plans and were going to leave the day after his birthday.  AND two days before was also my brother-in-law Tony's birthday.  

All of this long story is to say that we ended up having a Halloween birthday party for George and Tony.  And the Toad and Witch drawing fortuitously came in very handy for the birthday party invitation.

I encouraged people to bring a Halloween dish.  Below are photos from the party.

"It used to be the air was so thick with magic you could taste it on your tongue like ash. Witches lurked in every tangled wood and waited at every midnight-crossroad with sharp-toothed smiles. They conversed with dragons on lonely mountaintops and rode rowan-wood brooms across full moons; they charmed the stars to dance beside them on the summer solstice and rode to battle with familiars at their heels. It used to be witches were wild as crows and fearless as foxes, because magic blazed bright and the night was theirs.

But then came the plague and the purges. The dragons were slain and the witches were burned and the night belonged to men with torches and crosses.

Witching isn’t all gone, of course. My grandmother, Mama Mags, says they can’t ever kill magic because it beats like a great red heartbeat on the other side of everything, that if you close your eyes you can feel it thrumming beneath the soles of your feet, thumpthumpthump. It’s just a lot better-behaved than it used to be." 

― Alix E. Harrow, The Once and Future Witches

After the party was over and my company left, I had a conversation with my friend Jodi.  She commented that she liked my gouache experiments.  It is funny how just a small comment that lasted no more than a second was enough encouragement to stick in my head.  Friday I had the thought that I would do one more Halloween painting.

I had seen a painting I LOVED on Pinterest of a pumpkin with a spider hanging off the vine.  The painting was gorgeous and I wasn't sure that it could be improved upon...except by adding a little witch!  Plus, I modeled the pumpkin after an incredible heirloom pumpkin from last year.  Below you can see my sketch.

"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing."

―E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

My other thought while making the sketch was to include a spider that referenced one of my favorite children's books...Charlotte's Web.  The spider was quite small in my painting, but I tried to make her arms in a position Charlotte would have had.  

When I started working on the painting, it hadn't dawned on me that Halloween was the very next day.  So I worked all day Friday and late into the night to finish it.

Below you can see a short video of the process.
 

(Music by Mykola Sosin from Pixabay)

When I finished the painting I was very happy with the pumpkin, but not as pleased with the little witch.  I had wanted her to be younger, but somehow she turned out older than expected! (Witch magic, no doubt!)  I thought about painting over her face and trying again, but I had already spent a long time fussing with her face as it was.  Things got very tiny and my smallest brush seemed so crude.  As this was a learning endeavor, I decided to leave it and enjoy it as it was.  I also had the thought that maybe I should stick with plants!  But my sister said the witch added human interest.

When I posted this to Facebook I asked people to give the piece a title.  I gave suggestions..."Student and Teacher", "A Discussion of the Esoteric Arts of Pumpkin Seed Baking", or "A Discourse on the Delicacies of Divining."  Responses from friends were "Itsy, Bitsy Lessons," "Spooky Read," "To Pie or not to Pie," and "I Only Have Pies for You."  One friend described the scene as "the perfect meeting place for an inquisitive hanging spider and perspicacious witch interested in discussing the intriguing contents of a grimoire."  I liked the grimoire idea.  So today when I uploaded the video to YouTube, I named it "Shrinking Spells from the Green Grimoire."

When I look back at both paintings it occurs to me that magic is not such an unusual thing.  It is a force that is alive and well in our everyday lives.  It lives in the connection between the inner listening to an impulse to create something, and the outside events that conspire to pull that idea into the world.  Sometimes an idea occurs and it can't quite make it here...it dies on the vine.  But sometimes, between auspicious birthdates and the encouragement of friends, an idea can take the form of a burgeoning pumpkin with a perspicacious witch discussing shrinking spells with a childhood spider.  And THAT is pure magic.

“Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider's web?"

"Oh, no," said Dr. Dorian. "I don't understand it. But for that matter I don't understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle."

"What's miraculous about a spider's web?" said Mrs. Arable. "I don't see why you say a web is a miracle-it's just a web."

"Ever try to spin one?" asked Dr. Dorian.”

―E.B. White, Charlotte's Web  

Monarch on Ironweed

 

To spread butterfly wings, you must transform again and again. —Robert Moss 

Continuing with my goal for the year of trying to paint with gouache, my next subject was this monarch on an ironweed plant.  I was inspired by a photo I took on a walk at Armeleder park in late September.  The butterflies were everywhere!  Below you can see my reference photo, plus other gorgeousness from that day! 

You can’t stay a worm if you want to become a butterfly. —Robert Moss 

As you know, I always look up the spiritual significance of my subjects.  And I loved the meaning of both the monarch and the ironweed.

Monarchs are well known for their migration of thousands of miles across North America.  For this reason they represent the ability to navigate difficult life obstacles.  In addition, their transformation from caterpillar to butterfly also makes them an icon of personal evolution, inner growth, and shedding of past habits.  If a monarch lands near you, it can also represent a sign to follow your intuition.  It may all sound cliché, but all of this applies perfectly to my recent life circumstances.  In May I left a spiritual community that was dear to my heart.  I spent a very long time trying to stay, but finally got too uncomfortable in that chrysalis.  I am still letting my wings dry and we will soon see how these new wings work. 
 

I also looked up the spiritual significance of ironweed.  According to Google:

• "Because ironweed grows tall, stiff, and straight in harsh or neglected conditions, it symbolizes endurance, fortitude, and an unyielding 'spiritual backbone' during difficult life circumstances."

• In "backbone work" ironweed can help a person gain personal power and assert control or boundaries.

• Also, "The deep purple color of its blossoms is traditionally associated with authority, dignity, and spiritual identity, helping individuals stand firm in their personal truth." (Google: Source 1, 2, 3)

Historically, I have been a people-pleaser.  So standing up and stating an unpopular truth has not been a strength of mine.  But, I believe life tends to give us practice in areas where we are weak.  And I sure got a wallop of practice in this regard when leaving the aforementioned community.  I had no idea of all this when I started this painting.  Whether you believe in this stuff or not, I personally like to take it all as a wink from the universe.  Apparently, both the monarch and the ironweed were the perfect role models for me, helping me transform, navigate, and grow a backbone.

”You have grown a backbone where your wishbone used to be.
You have learned how to say no, you have learned how to walk away.”

—Kirsten Robinson 

  

Celosia

”Courage, dear heart.”

—C.S. Lewis

One of my goals for this year was to try painting with gouache.  I procrastinated for nine months and was finally inspired on a walk when I saw these Celosia plants.  I loved the shape so much I decided to paint them. 

I kind of "cheated" when painting, as I ended up using my white and pink Posca pens to make the fine hairs.  At least the base color and leaves were gouache.  But I am not a purist about these things as my focus is just getting it to look right.  And at least it got me started with gouache.  Below you can see a couple process photos with the gouache base layers.

When I looked up the spiritual meaning of this plant, I felt like the universe was sending me a message.

"The name Celosia comes from the Greek word keleos, meaning 'burning', as the bright plumes look like rising flames.  They represent fearlessness and strength." (Google)

The bright, fiery shapes are viewed by some as a physical representation of spiritual enlightenment and inner fire.  They can also represent a fresh start, courage, and good fortune.  In Victorian floriography, if you wanted to inspire someone to perform courageous feats, you'd give them a bouquet of celosia flowers (Petal Republic).  I won't go into all the details, but I recently had to conquer a big fear and am starting fresh on several fronts.  I am always astonished how the plants in my artwork nourish me on many levels.  And I feel lucky the Celosia reached out her spiky fingers to grab my attention and get me started on my new gouache endeavors!

Old Orchard Beach, Maine

“Woven into our lives is the very fire from the stars and genes from the sea creatures,

and everyone, utterly everyone, is kin in the radiant tapestry of being.”

― Elizabeth A. Johnson

Family Reunion

Last month I had the opportunity to tag along on my sister's husband's family reunion.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE going to the beach.  So when my sister's husband couldn't go and they asked if I wanted to take his place, the answer was YES!!!

The reunion took place at Old Orchard Beach, Maine, and we stayed at a historic house with cottages called Odessa by the Sea.  My whole goal for the week was to swim in the ocean.  I was worried I wouldn't be able to because the water temperature.  Luckily, the first day I arrived the water felt pretty good.  I swam every day except one, but the water got colder and colder as the week went on.  I was barely able to go under quickly and come right back out.  But this "cold-water-ninny" was proud of herself for going in.

Below are a few photos of my sister, me, and her two sons. 

Beach

Every single day I walked on the beach and it was such a joy.  The very first day I woke up early and found these beautiful ridges in the sand before anyone had walked on them.

When I saw the ridges, it made me think that the earth really is the most prolific and talented artist that exists, painting a new scene every single day.

Eventually dogs, people, and the ocean took the "ridgework" away.

Rose Hips

The house where we stayed was only a block away from the ocean and we had to walk through a grass-covered dune to get to the water.  As I walked across the dune the first day, I spied the most amazing thing...gorgeous, giant rose hips!  They looked like red octopi, kissed by the sun,  dangling from the leaves of the rose bushes.

I had debated whether or not to bring my sketchbook.  I often bring it on trips like this and it never leaves my suitcase.  But the rose hips were so incredible, I dug it out.

I also had the best seat in the house on the upper balcony to paint.  I could just see the ocean from where I sat, painting to my hearts content.

When I got home I added the type.

Barnacles

 Another thing I found fascinating were the barnacles.  I know they may not be everyone's cup of tea, but to this land-bound girl from Cincinnati, OH, they were like intricate, living art.  

When you walk the beach you always have to find a landmark to help you know where to turn in to your street.  We were lucky in that our street was marked by a string of about 20 rocks covered in barnacles.  At low tide they were covered in children with buckets of water, scampering about searching for crabs.

Seaweed

The first day I walked there was a lot of seaweed on the beach.  I know if you live near the beach, it is probably not that interesting to you.  But I like to think that if I lived by the ocean, I would find the seaweed endlessly captivating.  I absolutely love the chubby, yellow "claws" at the end of the branches.  And the plump "berries" that help them float are equally beautiful.  I was also amazed at how the clumps were often arranged perfectly as if someone had taken the time to lay them out before pressing them flat.

Here is my compilation sketch.

Wood

 If we turned right (south) when we walked on the beach we eventually came to an inlet that was difficult to pass at high tide.  Lining this inlet were large rocks that had pieces of wood that had gotten lodged there over time. 

 I don't know what species of tree made this wood, but the lines of the growth rings and the old worn knobs were fabulous!  I could easily have spent a day clambering over these rocks looking for wood to photograph. 

Wolfe's Neck Woods

One day my sister and I met a friend at Wolfe's Neck Woods.  We had lunch sitting on a blanket overlooking the bay.  Afterwards, my sister and I drove to the state park and walked down to the water.  It was quintessential Maine.  The large rocks here had such character.  While there, a squall came through and we sat under a tree waiting for it to pass.  

It was nice to sit on the rocks and absorb the beauty of this place with my sister.  It is not often we get to spend the day together chit-chatting about the mysteries of this world.

Map

I wasn't sure I was going to do a blog post about this trip.  But I got an email from an artist I follow named Jean Mackay.  Jean is an incredible nature journal artist, and I have gotten her emails for many years.  Last week, her email was about making maps of the places you visit.  I knew it would be a fair amount of work, but I decided to try it.

I liked thinking about the mental map I had made in my head of the beach.  I knew I would put in the rocks and lifeguard stand that marked where to turn in to our street (plus a few rose hips for good measure).  Also, I knew the bounds would be the pier with the circus on the north side and the river inlet on the south side.  I also wanted to include the highlight of my nephew winning a stuffed animal warthog at the arcade and the lobster roll we ate afterwards.  And of course I had to add Odessa by the Sea.  And I even added the dolphins we saw one day. 

Once I finished the map I decided to make a video so I could zoom in and show the highlights. Turn your volume on! (Music by Quincy Maddison from Pixabay)

Family

Music gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind,

flight to the imagination, and life to everything.

―Plato

The last topic I want to write about from this trip was the family reunion itself.  I only know my sister's husband's two sisters.  But the reunion had about forty people, most of whom I hadn't met yet.  I was struck by two things.  First, I was deeply impressed by the musical talent of this family.  I would not say I am that into listening to live music.  But I was utterly blown away by it.  The first night one person played the guitar and sang.  It was so beautiful it gave me the chills.  I was actually surprised at my reaction and was looking forward to the next night.

The following night, my nephew played with drums with the guitar singer.  Again, I was utterly and absolutely blown away.  I had a feeling I don't get very often.  As I was sitting there I realized I was completely content.  I was incredibly present and didn't want to be anywhere other than the place I was in that moment.  It is so different from my normal state of always thinking about what is coming up and what I need to do to get to the next thing.  If I had to describe the experience, I would say it was like being absolutely absorbed and in love with the present moment.  As the week went on, more family members came out of the woodwork with their incredible voices, piano, and guitar playing.  I was truly impressed and inspired.

"When we listen to music we are not listening to the past,

we are not listening to the future, we are listening to an expanded present."

―Alan Watts

The second thing I want to mention about this family is that the love was palpable.  Often, there are family dynamics that are playing out when such a number of people gather together.  There probably were this time too.  But the thing I sensed the most was that all these people loved being in each other's company.  I felt like a firefly buzzing around on the outskirts looking in upon a great bonfire.  I was barely even able to get people's names straight by the time I left.  But I loved observing small moments of interaction... the attention to detail in cooking, the time spent when older cousins played with the younger ones, the admiration in the eyes of the elders while listening to the next generation play music.  I could go on and on.  But I want to end by saying how lucky I was to have been included in this week by the sea.  A big thank you to the Amarels for including this sun-kissed hanger-on in their celebration and so much gratitude for including me in your magic, music, food and love.  Such a gift to spend time with you all.    

What if our religion was each other?

If our practice was our life?

If prayer was our words?

What if the Temple was the Earth?

If forests were our church?

If holy water—the rivers, lakes and oceans?

What if meditation was our relationships?

If the Teacher was life?

If wisdom was self-knowledge?

If love was the center of our being

―Ganga White