:) drumroll please...!!!
announcing, my 2nd quilting collection with windham fabrics! entitled 'aliens', the artwork is directly inspired by (and dedicated to) my two lovely, hilarious and crazy boys! There are 15 SKU's total, so here’s just a taste and a sneak peek into the whole collection, making it’s official debut to buyers in January 2017 and in retail stores in the Spring 2017.
woot! :D
It's been a hard two years full of choices made, roads taken—some out of necessity, and some of life just happens and I've done my best to weather it. Dad has been gone almost a year and a half now, Mom has made a full recovery and we are so blessed to have this bonus round with her.
Being back in the classroom teaching full-time this year, my first in nearly 11 years, has been oh-so-heartbreakingly-difficult. I've made it here, through the 3rd quarter (GO ME!) and I am welcoming this break to rest and take some time to breathe and plan my next steps.
I've made intentional choices this year regarding my return to the the classroom. For so many reasons, it has been the hard, right choice for my family and myself, but this choice has not been without personal sacrifice and consequence. When I start to doubt myself, I look to my children. My oldest son turns 12 this year, my youngest 10. In just 6 years my oldest will be ready for college and God-willing, will go out into the world on his own. In 8, we’ll send our youngest one off too. These precious years are going by so very quickly (too quickly) and I want to be present for my children in the best ways possible and able to help bring financial stability for our family as much as I am able to do. Instead of an hour in the studio, I choose to spend that hour snuggled next to Seth watching a favorite movie, while he'll still let me hold his hand and play with his hair. Instead of holing up and creating art while Steve takes the boys out all day (as was usual during the breaks) I choose to spend the afternoon watching my boys play in the ocean, bring present for them, being mom. I choose to sleep an hour early so that I can go to work the next day and not drag.
So for now, the art gets created and the writing gets written in the in between spaces of my life, and to be honest there isn’t much left of me at the end of the work and mama-ing day. I mourn this creative loss daily, while at the same time savoring the blessings that a steady full-time paycheck makes possible. Like Spring’s fickle weather, I’ve swung back and forth between extremes trying to find the right balance for myself and I sometimes wonder if I’m sabotaging my artistic progress by pulling back after having made such great strides. I wish I didn't have to choose. I wish there was enough time and energy and enough of me to give myself wholly to it all—work, family, art and everything else—but there isn’t. Managing the anxiety and depression I suffer from, while working and mothering full-time has been tricky at best. And so I have to choose, and at the end of the day, I look to my children and through that lens I am trying to live as whole and as happy and as healthy as I can possibly live. I am doing my best to make choices that honor my family as well as myself and I’m grateful that I get to make these choices—I’m fully aware that not everyone gets to.
Artwise, I ache sometimes. I’ve surrendered this love, this need to create to God—it’s painful to open up my heart wide, to sit in my once-studio only to have to close it all up again in a minute, or five minutes or an hour. I can't bear to just 'visit' the worlds that open up to me, the dreams I can taste, the glow of beauty I see in the artwork that comes to me...I don't know how to live like that, on and off, off and on, squeezing it into the nooks and crannies of my life. By the time I feel warmed up, time's over already--come and eat dinner, mom I need help with my homework, time-for-bed-early meeting-tomorrow…so to stem the ache, I just don't anymore, or not much.
But I can't live like this either. I’m beseeching God for a third way.
Are these the best, right choices? Is there a way to have both…how? Is there a less painful life? What role does art and writing have to play in my life and what does being an artist and a writer look like for me in this season?
with the full-time day job i took up in july, i knew in my bones that the long days would take away from time spent artmaking. i knew it, and i readied myself for it (the best anyone can when they anticipate a big transition) and still, i have gotten the wind knocked out of me, good and hard.
oh, i had all of the talks, all of the philosophical wonderings, said all of my prayers and done up all of the lists of pros and cons and at the end of the day, i knew this to be the right next step for me and my family. but i'd be lying if i said this choice to go back to full-time work wasn't the hardest thing i've ever had to do.
so was making the choice recently, not to go to surtex this year to exhibit, though it has long been my dream. my children are little you see, and after weighing everything and then adding in the hours i also spend working full-time, my heart sank to the bottom of the salty sea when i realized i just couldn't do it. would it sound melodramatic if i told you that it broke my heart, making this choice? it did. in two, at least. and yet, it was the best choice--my children have one mama, one childhood for me and their daddy to fill up with sweet memories--and committing to surtex would gobble up my already meager family time and other resources.
the truth is i am struggling to find a way to do it all--work the day job, be a mama, wife, friend, sister, daughter...and artist. and most of the time these days, i just can't do it all. and it makes me sad. and i am regrouping and pondering the role artmaking has to play in my life in order for me to feel fulfilled and happy. i'm asking myself how to honor the artist that i am and figuring out ways to make myself and my artmaking a priority. i am asking myself if there is anything i can do differently in my everyday life to make more space for the artmaking and writing that are such needed elements in my own well being and joyfulness.
i still have more questions than answers. i still throw myself pity parties. i am still struggling. every. single. day. and i know the answers will come and i am waiting as actively as i can in the midst of the lostness and not knowing what comes next.
once upon a time there was a girl. she was just a regular, ordinary girl—the kind you see at the supermarket or at the bank. there was nothing remotely comely about her outward appearance, in fact, you might say she looked at times, ‘unkept’ and that would be putting it kindly. but if you were to get a peek at her insides, well, then you’d be witness to something extraordinary.
because inside her plain wrapping were worlds upon worlds, full of poetry that she memorized and would whisper to herself during the mundane tasks of the day. inside her folds were colors awash with fantastical beasts and favorite characters from beloved books, and no one but no one knew they kept her company and that is why she never felt alone and indeed, sought out pockets of time to steal away from the world. there were line drawings, and doodles, images of chagall and words (always words) she’d read by van gogh and rilke that floated around in the depths.
and sometimes this girl would feel so lost, an alien, in the everyday world of dishes and laundry and the day job. she would feel that no one really, truly understood her or would understand the pull she felt every waking moment of every day of her life, towards a life so different than the one she was living. not that she blamed anyone—her inner life was sacred ground and very few were fully invited in, and fewer still embraced the worlds that she built...most found her “too much”. too much of a dreamer, much too much to feeling and complicated. much of the time, she barely understood how she had come to live this life, even though she herself had built it, one brick, one choice at a time, all she knew now was that she wanted out of this cardboard-pre-fabricated-one-size-fits-all-life. and then it dawned on her—since she was the architect of her own life, couldn't she also break down and rebuild a new life for herself, one that would hold the beautiful worlds she created inside of her?
{ New art! © janavellana, 2015, done in honour of Mary Blair }
I haven’t blogged in forever. The longer I stay away, the harder it is to come back. You know how it is. It feels like too little, too late. But the truth is, it’s never too little, and as long as we are still alive, it’s never too late either. I had almost forgotten this truth…
Eyeball deep in the elementary school classroom again, the conversation I've been having with myself lately is, "How much do you want this?" And by this I mean, this art life. And the answer I keep coming to is that there is no wanting or not wanting. I simply am. An artist, a creative, a mess maker.
And while the all consuming day job is testing my mettle, the bigger test comes during those quiet moments, when I can either choose to press through Resistance (Steven Pressfield), or simply give up the making for another hour which slides into a day or two, which easily becomes weeks and a then a life.
{ New art! © janavellana, 2015, done in honour of Mary Blair }
Where does one measly sketch in the middle of the day really get me? Sometimes it just gets me discouraged. But more often, it gets me one sketch closer to the day that I make art everyday for my living. One at a time. I may not be the best artist I can be yet, nor the most prolific or business savvy.
But I can choose to be tenacious. And so I show up. One sketch, one painting, one illustration at a time.
Tomorrow, I'll step foot back into the classroom full-time...something I haven't done in 11 years and something I swore I'd never do again. It's a temporary position in the elementary classroom servicing special needs children. My next step will be to re-enter the regular education classroom starting this Fall.
The truth is, I'm at a crossroads in my life. There are so many things my heart desires--a full-time art life, an agent, more licensing opportunities--and at the same time, financial stability, a house to raise my family in, travel while my children are still little. And because I know that my art career takes time to build, and that little boys don't stay little forever, I've decided the kindest thing to do for myself, my family and my art is to go back full-time to give all the things I love time to grow.
I have fear inside..."What if I'm as miserable as I was when I left this profession a decade ago?" "Will I still be able to make lots of art?" But I also have hope..."I'm such a different person I was 11 years ago--I'm excited to see how far I can go with my students!" "I'll be able to travel with my children and make memories with family near and far!" I worry that I won't have what it takes to be both a full-time teacher and an emerging artist, yet I'm excited at the possibilities this income will provide for me art-wise. It's such a give and take, things I will surely gain, sacrifices I know I have to make either way. This is not a move I've entered into lightly.
I hope to keep within me this quiet confidence I have fostered, that my art and the income it produces will continue to develop and grow, that I won't lose it along the way. I hope. I hope I won't stop being an artist. And I hope I can give my heart to my students in ways I wasn't able to my first time around? I hope I can fill their little souls with goodness and pour my love and light into them each and everyday. I hope my classroom will be a place of joy and safety for them and for me.
Please pray if you do, and wish me well on this next leg of my journey. Ready or not, here I come!