Drawing-She Dreams Peace

She Dreams Peace

This message of peace is an excerpt from my book, “Daughter of Spirit, Daughter of Peace: a prayer for humanity”:

Be at peace this day, my love. No one can touch you. They cannot take your connection to God, the Creator. You are wealthy and abundant; no human can take that wealth from you. No human hand can make you a victim, take away your divine spark, your purpose or mission. No human can do that.

All that is of real value is untouchable. Enemies can do nothing to you that matters. They can scare you. They can bully you. They can use force and crazy means, such as blowing up a building full of civilians, to pursue what they want.

What you possess cannot be taken. What you have can only be given. You cannot be made a victim by anyone or anything.  A divine spark lives in you. The Creator guides your every step. What can an enemy do to you that is more real than that?

Play a hero’s game. What you have, you can only give. What they want, they cannot take. Terrorists cannot take meaning, purpose, faith, peace or love. They cannot take your relationship with the Creator. You hold these gifts in your heart, and they are not for the taking.

Be at peace this day, my love.  Set things right in your mind and in your world. All things will right themselves in turn.

Graphite on 8” x 5”paper

©Claudia Rose, Ph.D.

http://www.ClaudiaRoseArt.com

Mixed Media-Mother of Mercy

Mother of Mercy (detail)

This Mother of Mercy paid me a visit when I thought I was going to paint flowers!

 My love, you do not have to forgive those that exhibit hatred and intolerance, yet you can forgive the part of you that wants to be separate, superior and right. Nothing but fear lives beneath the desire to control and dominate.  Have mercy on that poor, frightened self. Have mercy on the unforgiving part of you.

Forgive the state of mind that is hard and cold and known by all men from time-to-time. Forgive yourself, my love, for all your fear and small, petty needs. Doesn’t God take care of all details?

Forgive yourself, my love. Have mercy on that hardened, cold mind. It is safe to be soft. The world will not disintegrate if you stop trying to hold it together. The world will not fall apart. It is safe, my love, to let go. God is the great safety net beneath your feet. You do not need to hold on so tightly and so hard. It is not necessary.

Whenever you are angry or disgusted with someone, you can be with your anger. Sit with it. Greet it before you project it upon another being. When you are angry and upset, you can acknowledge the part of you begging for mercy.

You are loved. You deserve mercy and kindness. When you forgive your own desire to control and judge others, you forgive it in all mankind. You can look upon intolerance and hatred with mercy. Then watch fear fly from your heart.

Mixed media on 14” x 11” gallery wrapped canvas; acrylic, pastel and India ink

©Claudia Rose, Ph.D.

My Body of Work

“All art is autobiographical; the pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.” 

Federico Fellini

The Feminine Physique

1980

When I was young, I wanted to be a woman of strength and power and beauty. After I completed a B.F.A. in Studio Art, I put away my welding torch, canvases and paints to begin a living sculpture of muscle and sinew.

The desire to be more than what I saw in the mirror filled me up. It propelled me like rocket fuel! It was the desire the brain has for thinking, the heart for beating and muscles for moving. It was voracious and limitless.

I built a body that was so tight I felt like I was balancing on stilts when I walked. Every limb was shaven to create a smooth silhouette. Blood ran like blue rivers beneath the skin of my armpits.

My skin looked smooth, yet was hard as marble. My back was geometric patterns of muscle. Triangles and trapezoids fit together like pieces of a puzzle. My abdominal muscles looked like a Hershey bar with raised squares taut as a trampoline.

Three-and-a-half decades later, I am ready to give thanks for my body art and where it led. I caught the eye of actors, gym owners, photographers, journalists and promoters who were, in essence, my collectors. I slipped into the role of a pioneer in the sport of women’s bodybuilding, though to me it was always art rather than sport.

In 1980, I was the first California Bodybuilding Champion and runner-up in the first American Championships. In the tabloids, I was called “America’s Superwoman” and “a symbol of the new beauty available to women” in men’s magazines. In Brazil, journalists called me “The Wonder Woman”. I was featured in “World News Tonight” and “Wide World of Sports”, on the pages of People Magazine, Sports Illustrated and The National Enquirer, among others. The notoriety led to jobs as contributing editor for national magazines.

Like most artists, I was always dissatisfied with my art. I see it differently now. Age does that to you. If you are paying attention, you discover age unlocks the judgments you once held. Even the judgments you held against yourself.

I now acknowledge that I was a very successful artist featured in coffee-table books and, I lately discovered, inducted into the International Federation of Bodybuilding & Fitness Hall of Fame. It is time to give thanks.

Art takes a myriad of forms—it could be your garden, scrapbook, business or even your life. If you don’t appreciate its beauty and success, who will?

©Claudia Rose, Ph.D.

unknown photographer 

http://www.claudiaroseart.com

Painting-Garden of Love

A Garden of Love

I didn’t hear from my two closest friends on my 65^th birthday. Not a card, call or email, not even a text or shout-out on Facebook. But it’s okay. My happiness is not dependent on their memories. They can forget me or remember me.

I know I am loved. I know God holds me in His embrace. I know I am showered in gifts, blessings and even miracles. Perhaps the miracle is as small as a cat’s paw on my cheek as I sleep. Perhaps it is the flow of paint onto the canvas. I might be the only witness, and that is okay.

A garden of love blooms in me. This is the miracle I celebrate every day. It cannot be diminished by anyone or anything. I know where I stand in the universe—it is in this garden of love that God has planted and nurtures in me.

“Yes, My love, I am here in a cool garden. A breeze blows. The 

treetops are filled with birds singing. You reside here in this 

garden of My love.”

***

This painting reminds me of the Garden of Love in which I reside. Mixed media on 14” x 11” canvas including collage of original linocut mono prints, pastels, graphite and acrylic.

©Claudia Rose, Ph.D.

Available for sale: www.claudiaroseart.com

New Painting--With Gratitude

I Remember the Past with Gratitude

This mixed media painting reminds me of my grandmother, Doris, who was a good amateur painter in Glendale, California. As a child, I attended art classes with her. I still remember the smell of her paints, pigments mixed with linseed oil kept in a wooden box containing tubes, bottles, spatulas and brushes.

People often associate food with their childhood. Your might remember a table laid out with bowls of mashed potatoes and peas, a platter with sliced turkey, pumpkin pies and hot rolls. I vaguely remember food.

Yet, when I open my box of pencils, pastel sticks and paint tubes, I feel my heart open and race a little faster. The sight of rich, vivid colors, the feel of soft pastel beneath my thumb and the smell of earth feed me as if I feasted on a Thanksgiving meal.

I remember the past with gratitude as I remember Doris, who became more beautiful as she aged. Once robust and feisty with a judgment quick to leave her lips, she softened with age. Some people harden and become brittle as their bones. Doris softened as her body shrank and her hair whitened.

At 94, Doris still loved to walk. She loved to move. Finally, in the end, she moved with grace from my sight in a way that will inspire me always. She moved from one plane of existence to another without fight or regret for all the things she might have done.

I saw the peace on her radiant face. I saw the acceptance of her life. She seemed to anticipate what was coming.

Doris kept moving even when her legs gave way. She fell on the bus one Saturday and got back up. No bones were broken. She fell again at home. The last time she lay on the floor of the living room all night before my mother found her the next day. She couldn’t remember how she got there or what happened.

With or without working legs, Doris kept moving. Her heart kept her moving and gave her the direction of home. When we cleaned out her apartment, we found notes stuffed in corners, under lamps and in drawers. They were affirmations like maps tucked away to remind her of her destination. One read: “You are God’s child, made in His perfect image, eternally loved and cared for.”

I still have the notes. The writing is full of vibration with no straight lines or hard edges. Her hand, too, was full of movement.

That’s how I remember Doris. She was full of movement and grace as she made her way back home. In the end, she held her caregiver’s hand as he read to her. She smiled, leaned her head back and shut her eyes. She was home!

Doris, 9 months of age,

 in a chair that sits in my living room 

Mixed media on 12” x 12” hardwood panel. Includes collage of original mono prints on rice paper.

©Claudia Rose, Ph.D.