my modern fresco

fresco noun
1. a painting done rapidly (not so rapidly actually) in watercolor (interior latex & acrylic) on wet (old) plaster on a wall or ceiling, so that the colors penetrate the plaster and become fixed as it dries.
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My twin girls are graduating soon and I’m feeling nostalgic.
I’m not surprised I had a little trouble prioritizing things this week.
I focused on this instead, the other stuff will get done somehow.
Getting up at 4:15 to paint with the birds chirping was pure joy.
Below is the evolution & some details of the painting.
I haven’t felt “painterly” for a long time.
I do now.

Lisa Lillibridge's modern fresco

 

 

Thank you Ruby, Lena & BHS YES (year end studies) program.

I was very inspired talking about art and process.

Please Note:  I’m off FACEBOOK, please contact me through e-mail, not messenger.

top rack only

On this Mother’s Day, I really wanted to be honest with myself about it all. Mothering my kids has been heart-shatteringly beautiful and sometimes just plain heart-shattering, without the beauty part to soften the daily blows. 

I can’t change anything and regret is a waste of energy anyway.  If I try to tamp the regrets down, I know they will leak out in uncomfortable ways at inconvenient times. 

Recently I noticed the TOP RACK ONLY button on the dishwasher.  “Jeff and I will be a top rack only couple probably a few nights a week when the girls leave for college.”  When I said this to myself, it made me cry inconsolably.  Damn, that’s bleak.  

These episodes are getting more frequent now as our nest nears it’s emptying…clearly a time for a little extra grace. 

When Ellis, Lucy and Willa were growing up, I often did a quick review at the end of the day, asking myself one simple question: Did I love them more than I was pissed off at them?  I don’t remember ever answering, NO.  It was all the encouragement I needed to wake up and mother them another day.

Happy Mother’s Day 2018!

my 1980s spy movie fantasy

 

This week I was sent a cryptic message from someone named, Andrew Silva, alerting me that he left two photographs inside the front door of my home.

When I studied them I immediately thought of two things:

1.  I really love my $5 yellow, thrift shop, 1980s jacket.

2.  These images look like I’m a spy in a 1980s movie.  I was rather certain I had other images to round out my spy thriller storyboard fantasy.

Print

The film opens with an urgent call being made from a phone booth in Florence, Italy by the spy in the yellow jacket.

She’s investigating a missing American student studying abroad in Amsterdam.  The student disappeared in Florence on holiday.  The photo was taken by her roommate and potential femme fatale in their shared Florence hotel room.

Male characters (suspects #1 & #2) are photographed in Florence.  They are being exceedingly careful with their public conversations.  The younger of the two is an American architectural college student.  He was seen seated next to the missing student at a cafe the day she disappeared.

An older man (suspect #3) is waiting for the bus in Florence.  He’s under surveillance by the spy in the fabulous, yellow, 1980s, five dollar, thrift shop jacket.  No one is quite sure why though, and neither is he.  The spy’s sneaky photographs are really annoying him.  He’s constantly swearing at her in Italian.  This provides the levity in the film.

The American student’s roommate (suspect #4) was spotted walking toward the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam two days after her roommate’s disappearance in Florence with male (suspect #5). They clearly both know more than they’re telling investigators, casually seen shopping at Albert Heijn, the grocery store near the museum to give the appearance that it was just a normal day.

Male (suspect #2) is unknowingly photographed enjoying dinner out in Florence the night of the student’s disappearance.  He’s the father of the American architectural student and there’s obviously something quite shifty about him.  The angle of the photograph was carefully composed because the spy in the yellow jacket really wanted to remember the brand of balsamic vinegar from Modena on the table.

double image of andrews shots

 

 

images by Andrew Silva, April 2018

is a picture always worth…

a thousand words?  Or do the stories we hold onto shape the narrative a lot more?  My Mom always told me that as a newborn I possessed a striking resemblance to Winston Churchill.  I can’t tell from the photo and I don’t actually really care.  I find it funny.  However, I’ve always held it to be the absolute gospel truth.

What other stories of greater consequence have I never questioned that I was told as a child?  

 

getting nostalgic in color/part II

Since I’m not a twin, I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like for my girls to split up and go to different colleges.  I have a hunch they can’t quite imagine what it’s going to feel like either.  Please note the title of the article in the first beach picture.  I believe it’s about the Kardashians, however, with high school graduation looming, it’s a funny photo to unearth at this time.  Oh, the irony of life, isn’t it grand?

    

  1. Cape Cod beach day.
  2. Coming from or going to Mirabelles bakery in Burlington, Vermont.
  3. New York City for their 9th birthday to see “Wicked”.
  4. Lucy’s hair flying on the shuttle to the Martha’s Vineyard ferry.
  5. Getting ready for the Justin Bieber concert, Quebec City.

what we pay attention to matters & grows.

I’ve wasted some time not understanding (or maybe believing) this simple concept.  Every day we wake up with a choice to be made, even when it doesn’t feel like a choice.

choices and attention lisa lillibridgeWho wants to wake up in the morning highly attuned to the things that make them feel like crap?  I honestly don’t, and yet, sometimes I do that to myself.

I want my anger and resentment some days.  I really want to hang out in the house of pain and suffering on occasion.  In the last few years though, I’ve increasingly become aware of the toll those days take on me and everyone in my orbit. My dark days will obviously never go away completely, but thankfully, by noticing where my attention is directed, those days are finally getting to be fewer and far between.

Once I noticed my habits and patterns I couldn’t possibly un-notice them. 

Damnit, I tried pretty hard.  Trust me, I gave it a really good shot.

I love that knowledge can be brilliantly sneaky that way.

Good luck noticing, folks.

A NOTE OF COMPASSION:  Many people suffer with devastating, lasting sadness that requires way more than just noticing habits and patterns.  I don’t mean to diminish anyone’s experience.  I’m only sharing what’s been helpful to me.  I struggle with the blues, not prolonged clinical depression.

St. Kitts & Belle Mont Farm

My husband, daughters and I just returned from a trip to Belle Mont Farm on the island of St. Kitts.  Now that we’re awaiting a blizzard in Vermont, our whole vacation feels like a dream.  The beautiful & generous people, the warmth & color, monkeys, mongoose, birds, flora, farm to table food and the views of other islands were all so magnificent.  Belle Mont Farm is a hotel up in the mountains on 400 acres of fertile, organic farmland and tropical forest.  It was remarkably special and now etched in my memory.  I’m so grateful for the experience.

I had a realization while staying at Belle Mont Farm that I often live with a strange sense of guilt when I enjoy nice things. Why in the world do I feel this way?  After a little soul searching, here’s where I landed.  I believe some ancient part of me feels that there’s only so much abundance in the world and I’ve already been granted my share.  I’m not really deserving of more.

This thinking is more than a little absurd, right?  Life is not a zero-sum game.  I’m genuinely happy when other people get to experience cool things.  I don’t think, damn, now the universe has less for me.

ZERO-SUM GAME

a situation in which one person or group can win something only by causing another person or group to lose it

Thank you Belle Mont Farm for the lesson learned I learned about abundance.