I've moved...

I've moved beyond the fitful starts and into launching my dream.
It all picks up at Nyssa, Ink.  
Please visit when you can!

consistently inconsistent

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

Know thyself, right? That's why this blog is called Fitful Starts. I do know myself. I've done some work in that department and I consider it a lifelong labor of love.

Year in and year out, one thread running through my life is that I have always been consistently inconsistent. Not in every way (uh, thank goodness). Character and values? I am solid as a rock, rarely wavering. In other areas of my life, well, let's just say, look for me where the wind blows. When it comes to my daily habits and personal creative passions, I often just follow my mood or inspiration, or equally as often, what ends up being my lack of inspiration. I've always just laughed it off as a Gemini thing: part of me wants to do one thing, another part of me wants to do something different... but then (and here's the rub) eventually I find I've done neither. But forget resolutions... they are more likely to be disappointments made in advance (especially for a Gemini).

I truly savor the pensive nature of this time of year. It's a season in itself, this changing of the calendar, and it's one of my very favorite seasons. It strikes me as a time of steeping or brewing. It's not lost on me that the purpose of steeping or brewing is to make stronger, richer, more flavorful.

As I reflect on the past, present and future, what I most want to focus on this year is being more consistently consistent -- in pursuit of what makes me feel happy and alive: creating, blogging, thrifting and treasure hunting, reading and writing, being outdoors and time spent with family and friends. In short, I am striving towards more time spent connecting-- with myself, nature and others.

Now that doesn't sound like a horrible assignment for the new year, does it?

art and life, then and now

"Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads." 

quote by Erica Jong 

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

What do you think of when you see this image? 

At this stage of my life (thankfully) I no longer believe that talent is necessitated by suffering... it is indeed possible to be wildly creative and, yes, happy. I once believed otherwise.... but I now know that suffering is the human condition; in no way reserved for just artists and misfits.

For me, there is a release in this, a freedom-- no need to fear the dark places our talent may lead us. We are headed there anyway... willingly or otherwise, such is life.

So, I will laugh. I will create. I will mourn. And I will be happy.

But, like authentic blues singers, the ones who have seen the darkest shades of blue can sing it like no other. The piece above, done by my father, reminds me of the dark places his talent led him, symbolizing for me, a chaos of the mind. Dark? Yes. And beautiful, still.

"Each day comes bearing it's gifts. Untie the ribbon."
 quoting Ruth Ann Schabacker

on hitting the road...

"the road was new to me, as roads always are, going back"      

 ... quoting Sarah Orne Jewett 

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

on collecting...

I have several "collections"...

Small pitchers or creamers (I would share a photo but they currently reside in a cupboard- in our last, roomier home they had their own proper - albeit dusty- shelf).

Vintage ceramic and glassware, resting comfortably in a beautiful french hutch (and would make another lovely blog picture, I am sure).

Art, piles and stacks of art (to fill way more than my own home).

Vintage linens (in a heap, waiting to be laundered).

Barbies. Yes, lots of Barbies (sadly, stacked neatly in a closet). It's the little girl in me and Barbies always make me smile.

But one of my very favorite collections (all fitting nicely in one little shoebox) is the pile of hundreds of quotes that have moved or inspired (or even just made me laugh) that I've collected over the last 25 years... this collection is one that actually makes a real, measurable difference in my life. I call on those quotes-- to just get me through life on some days, and, on other days, to help me make the most of life. These quotes, becoming my own personalized book of inspiration, remind me of the beautiful and amazing fact that I have the ability to control my mind and focus my thoughts in the direction of my own choosing.

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved.

.... quoting Geothe--- "Nothing is worth more than this day". 

and according to Ralph Waldo Emerson--- 

"Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind". 

Simple as that. 

as we remember him...

Richard Holmes Dawson 

September 12, 1948 - September 12, 2001 

Life is complicated and brief. Love is simple and eternal. 

his legacy, my honor...

When someone you love so enormously leaves you suddenly and unexpectedly, it is a complete shock to the system. No time for those last goodbyes, to say the things you would have wanted to say, to ask the questions you wanted to ask.... and for me, the result was that everything he left behind became incredibly precious to me.

But beauty is in the eye of the beholder- as they say, and as such, I've never felt as though I was able to see his art with an objective eye. To me it is amazing, powerful and beautiful. After all, it is my father's legacy. And now, today, experiencing others experiencing his art is so powerful and truly just blows me away...

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

I imagine this little painting is based upon his travels in France, Italy and Switzerland... it reminds me of a painting called "vision of Toledo" that he sent me for my 30th birthday, just a couple of years before he died. I am grateful and honored to be the caretaker of his legacy... and I take great refuge and solace in the images he left behind.

A thank you card to Blogger

Before my father unexpectedly passed away, almost nine years ago, he mentioned to someone that he imagined his art would end up in a dumpster after he was gone. His life's work. His life's passion. As his only child, I could never let that happen. With the help of his dear friends in North Carolina, we were able to ship the lion's share of his work out to me in Oregon. It was many, many boxes and took months to complete. 

I have often wondered how I will share his work and honor his memory.... but wonder no more. 

Thank you, Blogger. 

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

Self-taught and shy of his talents, his art was presented mostly as gifts to friends and family. Over time, I will continue to post his works and honor his memory here with that hope that someone may be moved by what he left behind.... 

labor day laborer

As a general rule, I try to avoid any labor on Labor Day. 

But today, duty calls.... so hi-ho, hi-ho, off to work I go.

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

little boy blue

Original art by Richard H. Dawson, all rights reserved. 

I'll admit it, some days I can really relate to this little boy.

But that's part of the beauty of life... without suffering, how would we measure joy?

In the moments when I feel lost, unsure or scared, as I reach for solace, I always find joy.

her inspiration

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

This image is the complete view of my current profile picture, a mixed media done by my father, Richard H. Dawson (1948-2001), titled "her inspiration", one of literally hundreds of works of art that came to be mine upon his passing. I adore this painting and in sadder times, her image has brought me much comfort. The simplicity, use of color, graphic boldness, the sadness in her eyes and background text all draw me in...

One great thing about being 41 now is that I have those fantastic 70's shots in my collection... and this is one of only 2 photographs I have of my father and I while I was a child. The only other photo I have with my father was taken when I was 12 or 13. The photo shown here was taken in Eugene, Oregon, likely in about '72 or '73. The home, on 13th street, near the University of Oregon campus has long since been torn down. As my only memory of a childhood visit with my father, what always sticks out in my mind is that he seemed SO tall to me, and as basically a stranger to him, I was indeed both excited to spend some time with him but also a bit scared. So, imagine then how that little girl felt when she walked into the house and the original version of Frankenstein was playing on TV! And throw in the fact that he had Great Dane at the time!! See, that's the thing about my dad though: he always made a big impression on all who came in contact with him and it certainly was no different for me. As a pre-teen I began the slow process of getting to know him and over the years we became very close. He always told me, as a young woman, that I was "his greatest masterpiece" yet he was also always careful to never take credit for how I turned out, acknowledging he hadn't been the father I needed. We loved each other very much and losing him is still, nine years later, a shock to my system.

On a lighter note... this blog was inspired in part by an apple a day, one of my very favorite blogs. The day I found her blog a good couple hours suddenly disappeared while reading her archives and I always eagerly anticipate her future posts. For one, she loves old things at least as much as I do. She shares about her family, their country home, treasure hunting, her creative work. There is a simple, sensitive and somehow raw sensibility to her photography and writing style...