The Thread

 Kerry Pendergrast

We lost a unique multi-talented creative spirit in Ubud this week. Kerry Pendergrast, an artist, poet, singer, mother and wife left us and the planet unexpectedly. As I thought about Kerry today, I remembered that in the twenty or so years I’ve known her, I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone.

Her bawdy earthy powerful voice entertained us with song, while her delicate pastels layered with vibrant colors turned simple landscapes into sparkling gems. She also painted in oils, acrylics, watercolors and did lively line drawings. Our community is shaken by this loss, but her creativity lives on in the art work she produced. She will continue to inspire.

"Temple at Tengkulak" by Kerry Pendergrast

Creativity. It comes from beyond us and continues without us. It’s a thread that connects one artist to another one generation to those in front and behind it. To be radically connected is a gift without equal. And when one is flowing with it, being swept along in the current, something magical happens.  All time stops, all troubles disappear, and there is only This.

I feel such gratitude to be able to express what comes through me. It feeds on itself and gathers momentum the more I open to it. I have in front of me as I write a collection of our latest designs in wood, bone, mammoth tusk, lapis and opal. Some pieces are works in progress others are complete and waiting to be strung into necklaces, set into silver as pins, simply put on a cable or readied for stock for Tucson, coming up at the beginning of February.

Work in Progress

All this creativity in a heap on the table inspires me to push on and delve deeper into the well.  And I feel intense gratitude that I’ve been able to live the whole of my adult life doing this work in whatever medium inspires in the moment.

Kerry also had a creative life and lived her life creatively. Her legacy will live beyond her physical presence through her work and her two beautiful children, although I’ll miss her on the dance floor boogying by herself or with a partner, male or female. 

You can see more of Kerry's work here: http://www.age.jp/~pranoto/kerry/pastel/014.html

The Heart Smile

My Painting Table

Sometimes I’m sitting in my painting studio (as opposed to my beading studio) and my heart starts smiling. No really, I can feel it in my chest - a sort of expansion that goes beyond ribs and muscle and skin.  This deep down connection with creativity is like anticipation that something joyful is about to happen. This also happens in the beading studio but I share that with my assistant and am rarely there alone. This ‘heart smile’ comes with solitude.

I see artist’s studios as sacred spaces.  Like Merlin we conjure up the unknown and bring it into this world in whatever medium we work, whether it’s painting, drawing, sculpture, music, dance, writing, or other creative pursuits.  Time disappears, we step away, and magic happens through us.  

I used to need my studio to be neat. In fact that need could overtake the desire to create. It became an excuse to not face my fear of blank white paper.  It was a buffer between my desire to get my vision out through my hands with paints or pencils or pastels onto the art paper and the actual doing of it, which was often scary.  What if I can’t do it? What if I’ve lost the ability? What if I create crap? Or worse - What if I waste time?

Now with less hours available to be in either studio - the business of  selling jewelry takes up more time than the doing - the neat nick has stepped back. That is until my work table is just too crowded to use and I have to call her back.

Better Call In the Neat Nick!

Today the ‘heart smile’ came as I opened the door to my home/office after a two hour session in the painting studio.  I just felt happy!  I’d started mixing new colors - colors I have rarely used and it was thrilling. 

If you’ve been reading this blog you know my new medium is carved bone - carvings I design and have carved by my team of inspired and expert Balinese carvers. I then apply color to them.  It took over a year of research but I’ve finally found the type of paints to use to get the feeling I envision.

Today I mixed violet and gamboge yellow in various proportions to get colors that tickled me - made me joyous.  That joy now enhances a sea horse and I can even see the beads that will go with him!  Ah the ‘heart smile’ again or is that a grin?

Recycling Art

My husband, Bob, is in late stage Alzheimer’s. He’s cared for by four Balinese men in a cottage not far from my house.  He usually eats facing a wall instead of out into the garden because of the way his table is situated.  This had been bothering me for awhile. I wanted him to have something to look at when he eats since he’s now fed, having lost the ability to do it himself.

I have some serigraphs made long ago (these are original artist’s hand made prints) and had brought some here to Bali to cut in half for painting on the unused side.  Two survived the dissection and as of a week ago one now graces Bob’s dining wall. 

I wondered if he would even notice the print entitled, “The Mountains Admiring the Clouds”, with mountains shaped like faces looking at clouds shaped like animals and people. When I look at it now I shutter at my choice of colors for this piece created in 1980.  It’s too happy, too bright, too innocent, and not the way I would paint it today with a more sophisticated palette and a different vision.

When I stopped in to see Bob yesterday, the caregiver was feeding him. Bob was intently studying the new art work on the wall. He talked about it as though the characters were alive and he was surprised to hear that I had created it.  During the time I was with him he wouldn’t let me turn his wheelchair to face the garden. He was fascinated by the art piece.

"The Mountains Admiring the Clouds"

“Where’s the fish?” he asked. I honestly hadn’t really looked at the serigraph in years. After studying it I found a fish in the clouds, “There it is Bob. It’s an angel fish.”  “Who’s that woman?” he asked pointing to a female profile emerging from a unicorn’s tail. He asked lots of questions which mostly I didn’t understand. A lot of what Bob says makes little sense these days plus he speaks very softly. 

I left Bob’s house thrilled to know this discarded work of mine is doing some good, is brightening my husbands life, and giving him something to talk about. It’s peculiar as an artist, that often pieces I don’t like for one reason or another still speak to someone else. It’s as though they have a life of their own.  And this piece with it’s garish colors and simplistic theme is no exception. It speaks to Bob and its a way in, to connect with him again.

I have many prints left from this addition plus two other editions of other themes and all three share the qualities of innocence and simplicity.  I’ve wondered what to do with them since I’m not in the business of selling two dimensional art any longer.  Perhaps I can donate them to nursing homes, hospitals, and schools where they can be used to inspire youth and touch hearts fenced in by age and disease.  That’s all I ever wanted from my work - to touch people’s hearts.