Blog

This blog is about love, marriage, and enduring friendship. Sandy and Charlie Scott are one of my favorite married couples. A career committed to the medical health and welfare of the Burlington community children, they now enjoy retirement by playing golf, traveling, cooking, gardening, and spending sun filled days with family on Bald Head Island. Charlie is an avid beekeeper and jam maker, and Sandy, a prolific and renown portrait artist. What inspires me most about Sandy and Charlie is their deep love and devotion to one another. Approaching sixty years of marriage, they seem to share an intangible connection and mutual understanding of each other's well-being. Through health challenges and happier times, they live in the kind of intimate companionship that authenticates marriage. I am blessed with their friendship.

Sandy’s sweet disposition and warm smile make her a favorite among friends. As golfing buddies, we are positive and encouraging with each other’s game. We share a “tender hearted” nature that is sensitive to unkindness. Sandy is also a fellow traveler in our creative and spiritual journey through art. We paint to make people happy and to become closer to God. Her friendship is a treasure.

The Scotts' tulips were brilliant this spring and painting them was a pleasure. I have begun reading Kate Bowler’s new book, The Lives We Actually Have (Convergent Books, 2023). She offers blessings for both ordinary and extraordinary days. She writes in one blessing,

Blessed are we who desire to feel our hearts soar…with awe at the people right in front of us, with the beauty of the lily in its elegant purity, and the mystery and power of the tiniest seed, bursting to live as it was always destined to do. This world you made. It is irreducibly sublime. (p. 47)

Let us feel the wonder of love, friendship, and the blooming of new life. Let us wake up to the color of living. (pp. 52-53)

How is your heart? Mine is soaring.

This morning I learned of the passing of Dr. David H. Reilly, my beloved doctoral advisor, professional mentor, and good friend. He was surrounded by his family-two sons, a daughter, and his loving wife of 68 years. A massive heart attack at age 86.

I first met Dr. Reilly 35 years ago when I interviewed for the doctoral program in educational leadership at UNC-Greensboro. I wore a red dress, hoping to heighten my petite stature as I fielded questions from a committee of white men. Dr. Reilly must have been impressed by my “spunk”: he requested to be my advisor. His background in clinical psychology and my research interest in adolescent cognitive development were complimentary and the challenge began.

I proposed qualitative research; Dr. Reilly pressed for quantitative (which demanded more statistics). With my dissertation completed and a faculty position at Elon secured, I suggested that I should try to publish an article; he suggested that I write a book. Of course, I did, and he read every page and wrote the introduction. This mentoring continued until my fifth book, published in 2008. The highlight of our professional relationship was his invitation to co-present a seminar on critical thinking for faculty at the University of Tbilisi in the Republic of Georgia, where he had been a Fulbright Scholar. Can you imagine presenting “shoulder to shoulder” (well not quite since he was 6’2’’) with your favorite teacher?

Dr. Reilly and I managed to keep in touch through social media since our retirements, meeting for occasional catch-up lunches. He commented on my art postings on Facebook; I tried to keep track of his growing family, which includes two great-grandchildren. Our last lunch was two years ago. I remember being startled to see this former college athlete and marine walking tentatively toward me with a cane. It somehow seemed that roles were reversing.

My favorite Irish writer and poet, the late John O’Donohue (2008), wrote of dying as a space “beyond endings” to a place of “inner tranquility” where one sees the reflection of a life’s kindness and beauty in all the tears that fall (p. 180). Rather than traditional death, I believe that we move from the world of the visible to that of the invisible. That, as ancient Celtic beliefs determined, our spirits become free from the pain of illness and aging. My blessing is that Dr. Reilly “quickens within the embrace” for which his “soul was eternally made” (p. 181).

How is my heart? Truly grateful and blessed.

 O’Donohue, J. (2008). To bless the space between us: A book of blessings. New York: Convergent.

Helen Farson’s smile lights up any room…or vineyard. This painting is my vision of Helen's angelic beauty, taken from a photograph near Christel’s villa in Provence. It is a gift to celebrate her and her birthday.

Helen’s enchanting sanctuary Gloriosa Studio and Garden in Greensboro, NC is a mecca for art students, young and older. To enter the blue door is to step into visual delight…paintings, some unfinished, decorate the walls, floor to ceiling, easels are arranged, cheerful quotes speak and art supplies in abundance. A vase of cheery sunflowers, soft blue hydrangea or breathtaking white roses, carefully arranged with a couple of green pears and purple cherries, might await Helen's demonstration…and the day's challenge for workshop participants. To study with Helen is to bask in sunlight and to be immersed in an experience enhanced by philosophical wisdom of life. Students not only learn technique but also something about what it takes to become an artist. 

Dance the line between skill and joy.

There are no mistakes in painting…eventually you will find a path.

Let your brush turn, curve, dance and play. Be fearless, simplify and use tuition.

Your best mode of transportation is a leap of faith. Live on the edge.

Painting is easy. Painting well, hard.

And with these words adapted from Mary Oliver’s “Instructions for Life”:

            Pay attention

            Be astonished

            Draw or paint about it!

For ten years Helen has been a teacher, mentor and friend. She admittedly has a love affair with plump, ripened figs, savors crisp Rosé and relishes macarons, especially from Ladurée. She firmly believes that pink should be in every painting and that every painting should hold a little mystery. She also emphasizes that painting is not for sissies: it involves passion, dedication, consistent practice and patience. To Helen, painting is a quest for JOY. Her love of life and zest for living bring joy to those around her, and her words continue to inspire.

Everyday God gives you a gift.  You just have to untie the ribbons.  

How is your heart?

Roses have played a special significance in Judy Pennington's life. Her husband Jim gave her rose bushes rather than cut flowers on celebratory occasions. Red, double delight and yellow are still her favorites. When Jim died suddenly, Judy hired Witherspoon Rose to plant a garden in his memory beside the brick wall of their house at 704 W. Willowbrook Drive.

The brick wall and adjacent patio also carry significance as a gift from Judy's parents. Her father was well-known in the community who did sand, stone and excavation work. Richard Moore, a close friend and co-worker, was the brick mason for the wall. When her parents moved from the country to the Village at Brookwood, Judy shared the beautiful roses with them until their deaths in their late nineties. 

Judy's move from the W. Willowbrook home in September after 35 years was an emotional one. She commissioned me to paint a memory of Jim's rose garden against the brick wall and beside the millstone. I am touched by Judy's love of family, sense of place, and attention to legacy. Her stories behind the painting were shared with great appreciation of history and of the connectedness within life's flow. I was pleased that she was overjoyed with the painting.

How is my heart? Mine is moved by the story of 704 W. Willowbrook. Thank you, Judy.

Roxanne Dutchess of Provincetown ("Roxie") lived a happy and fun-filled life with Linda and Buster Freeman for close to 14 years. An English Springer Spaniel, tri-color in black, white and tan, she distinguished herself from the litter of eight by running and turning a back flip. She was definitely the one to take home!

Young Roxie loved to play frisbee in the back yard. She would run with her back toward Linda, only to turn just in time for the catch. Buster insisted that she had "eyes in the back of her head"! Roxie loved to ride the boat at the coast and swim in the family farm lake. Her favorite toys were her "babies"--identical tr-color pups that were constant companions, day and night.

Painting Roxie was both a joy and learning experience. Her hair was soft and velvety, not curly as similar breeds. Her eyes were intent yet warm, her white markings subtle yet contrasting. An artist herself, Linda guided my brush strokes into precision and familiarity. A pet's face mirrors a human one in color and expression. The Freemans knew their Roxie and I wanted her portrait to be just right! I knew I had succeeded when Linda smiled and said, "That's our baby!"

The other joy in the opportunity for painting Roxie lies in the celebration of deep friendship over many decades of our lives. Kindergarten for Buster, high school for Linda-- the memories of younger years are interwoven with the close bonds we share today. 
In these sunset years true friends lift us among the daily challenges of health concerns and losses, and they celebrate in life's good fortunes.

How is my heart?  Mine is filled with the wonder of relationships.

Who has been called the "toughest-looking animal mascot in sports"? Until a few weeks ago, I had no idea of the existence of Bevo, a Texas Longhorn steer who is the live mascot of the athletic programs at the University of Texas at Austin. Rebecca Espisito, a proud alum, introduced me to Bevo, fifteenth in a century-old lineage of  burnt orange and white Longhorns. I had painted her beloved dog Posey last spring. This time she requested something bigger--as in 3' x 3'--certainly a "fitting" size for this majestic beast! I ordered a canvas, lowered my easel, sent Rebecca a sketch for approval, and began the challenging commission.

Rebecca and Danny recently moved from Texas, bringing bigger-than-life personalities and warm hearts that attracted friends instantly. With athlete sons at Elon and High Point University, Burlington seemed a good spot to settle. Some of the best friendships begin on the pickle ball court, and the Espisitos brought their own fun-loving spirits.

As I watched Bevo emerge on my canvas, I began to develop an affinity to this handsome animal. I read about his prestigious predecessors, dating back to 1916, and a few of their mischievous mishaps. It turns out that Bevo XV was not to be outdone! During the 2019 Sugar Bowl he broke free of his handlers and scattered reporters in an attempt to get to the University of Georgia mascot, an English bulldog named Uga. You go, Bevo!

What seemed a daunting commission became an endearing adventure. As my son Brent (Flowers Gallery, New York and London) commiserated, Mom, we encourage our artists to stretch themselves. And that I did! I hope my rendition of Bevo XV captures the "Hook 'em Horns" school spirit of University of Texas, Austin.

Thanks, Rebecca, for the challenge and opportunity to spread my wings.

My heart feels light and opened. It's a good space to be.

My first art lesson with Laine was a private one in Marty’s back room studio in the fall of 2013, just a few months after losing Larry.

Don’t put a pure color on canvas. Mix to complement (“complete”)

Identify larger spaces, the smaller within.

With #2 brush, cover sketch lines with yellow ochre.

Begin with darkest areas, cover with broad brush strokes (#12 brush). Stroke leave it. Don’t mix on canvas.

Lay out the paints in order, warms facing cools, around the perimeter and use the center to mix.

Build a painting through four layers, starting thin and finishing with the “icing.”

The pages of my notebook filled up fast: how to mix shadows, what makes the best sky, how to blend a good green and a lighter one, how to create the brightest white, what yields gray.

My painting journey with Laine thus began, and has continued over nine years, spanning  from Burlington to Gloriosa to Tyler White Gallery to Carlton Gallery to scenic Provence. Her ongoing support and words of encouragement have nurtured my passion and talent.

When Laine asked that I paint a small angel holding a lamb, I felt honored and a bit nervous. After all, she was my teacher. I decided not to “think too much” and let the paints shape and blend. They became “Laine colors” of blue, peach, yellow, cream, and resting gray. She was so pleased, and I was thrilled that she wants to have the angel bless her new studio.

In an earlier blog, I referenced the writing of Emily P. Freeman and her message to uncover the art we were made to live and to offer it in the presence of others. Through Laine’s mentorship, and divine resources, I am gaining the confidence to “show up in the world” and be who I really am.

I titled Laine’s angel “A Gentle Spirit” as tribute to my friend, teacher and mentor. I wrote these words on sheetrock wall of her studio.

May your heart dance.

May art be a poem of your creative self.

May your soul glimpse eternity.

Love and Friendship

Glenda

How is your heart? 

Freeman, E. P. (2013). A million little ways: Uncover the art you were made to live. Revell.

Katie Boon is well known in the community for her committed leadership with the Alamance Regional Charitable Foundation. Our friendship began when she asked for a photograph of Larry as reference for an etching on the wall of the new cancer center. Along with Dr. Choksi, Larry was instrumental in bringing this needed service to Alamance County. Katie and her visionary team plan the Black and White Ball each year as a fundraiser to assist families of cancer patients with expenses such as medication, transportation, utilities, medical supplies, and other basic needs. I was fortunate to be crowned one of the Belles in 2019.

I donated a pet portrait for the silent action at last year’s Ball, and Katie had the winning bid.  Hence this painting of her adorable Lucy, a six-year-old pug named after Lucille Ball for her vivacious and endearing nature.

North Carolina author, Emily P. Freeman, writes that we are all artists, individuals created in God’s image, and that our art is released in a million little ways as we think, love, pray, work, worship, and exist. We are challenged to uncover the art we were made to live by first connecting with our deepest desires, listening for evidence of our unique design, and offering what we have in the presence of others.

I see in Katie Boon an artist who has uncovered her unique design for community service. Tirelessly, she has worked for the Foundation and its valuable contribution. Not deterred by the pandemic, she and her team worked creatively to fundraise in virtually. Katie is an individual, created in God’s image, whose art has been uncovered and released for the benefit of those less fortunate Alamance County.

What is your deepest desire? How can we uncover the art we were made to live? Katie Boon gives the inspiration and spirit.

How is your heart? Mine is open and ready to embrace.

Six words.

Waiting for the mystery to unfold.

Freeman, E. P. (2013). A million little ways: Uncover the art you were made to live. Revell.