The On/Off switch

Does anybody know where the ON/OFF Switch is?

The On/Off switch

Art Giveaway!

This is a heads up, so MARK YOUR CALENDAR!


Art Giveaway!

It's True . . . I'm clearing out my Art Studio to make room for more art!
I'm giving away a 'Mother & Child' Print on Canvas!

This print that I am giving away is a second. I've been wondering what to do with all the beautiful reproductions prints that do not make the "A" list simply because they are a tad too bright or too dark, maybe slightly flawed to a highly skeptical eye, or the colors aren't up to par. Nevertheless they exist in limbo in my art studio storage room, and I don't believe in throwing them away. There is nothing wrong with these prints, except that they are seconds and don't meet the standard I have in place for retailing at the regular price. Some of them I will be donating to charity, and some I will be listing for sale as seconds on my online store, so be sure to watch for those listings. But I thought I would have a little fun by holding a few Art Giveaways as well. This will be my first Art Giveaway in a series of Art Giveaways.

This is A REAL SWEET DEAL! I'm telling you I'm giving away some good stuff here!

All you have to do is post a comment on my Blog during the month of October and your name will automatically be entered into the drawing! Click here for the guidelines.

The press releases go out today, and the email blast goes out next week. Be sure to tell all your art loving friends!

Happy Commenting!
Peace & Love,
Melanie


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Please share this post with others - Thanks! Melanie Banayat

Art Giveaway!

I Paint and Write...

...Because I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.

There are seasons in our life when we make decisions based on circumstance, where we must tuck our dreams away in a safe place in our hearts to protect them. That way when the time is right we can bring them back out again. Unfortunately, sometimes they get stuck, and we need a little push or pull to get them loosed.

In my studio in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico

Despite circumstantial situations, I for one believe there always remains an underlying dream that awaits patiently, and sometimes not so patiently. I’m guilty of being one of those early idealists who just assumed that everyone was born with a gift, a talent, and a dream that was simply apart of who they were. Is that fact? As I get a little older I hesitate to answer that. I’m much more comfortable these days being willing to admit that I don’t know the answer. But if you were to ask me in confidence, just between the two of us, I would tell you in a punctuated whisper… Yes!

I recall a conversation with my mother in the kitchen when I was in seventh or eighth grade. I knew that my mother had become bitter, and built up walls around her after the death of my father. Though she would not admit it back then I can only imagine that her love for him was deep. In fact it wasn’t until she was in her 70’s that I finally caught a glimpse of her fondness for my father … so many years; so much heartache and fear. That day, back in the late 1970’s in our sun drenched kitchen with yellow countertops, I somehow found the nerve to ask mom if she had a dream. If there was something she always wanted to do in her life. Mom was not prepared to answer that question for me at that time, so she hid behind angry words. Anger was her escape. I didn’t understand it back then, but I learned.


Life has a way of repeating itself. This I discovered, like most of us do, in the school of hard knocks. I, too, had packed my dreams away on a number of occasions. I even became angry and bitter about it. But, just like clockwork, my dreams would periodically pop their little noggins out and look me straight in the eyes with hopeful encouragement, and my heart would melt. “Yes, ok, come on out, I think it’s safe.” But with so many years past, and time ticking away, my dreams seemed shabby and out of shape. And self-doubt would set in. “Did I lose them?” So once again I would pack them back in the their little crib, which was well worn and use to their presence.

Then…as life would have it, I got the big PUSH! It took 25 years for before those dreams were fully released once again. One of the boldest things I did in my life happened after divorce #2; I took a trip deep down into Mexico to find myself. I wanted to take a hiatus to for a while in order to transition from old life to new. I know that sounds so “New Age funky”, but it sums it up so well.

Before I made the big trip alone I needed to calm some nerves with my family. So I invited my mother to come check out this place with me in Mexico. We stayed for nine, wonderful, healing days. Every morning mom and I would wake and have breakfast in the hotel restaurant that we stayed in. We sat on the patio, under a giant Rubber Tree with an amazing view of Lake Chapala. Our breakfasts were leisurely. I loved it. It was the first time I had ever done anything like that with my mother. In fact, we hardly knew each other. Mom worked two, sometimes three or four jobs when I was growing up – I hardly saw her. But during those nine days, we learned more about each other then I ever imagined we could in such a short amount of time. It was a truly healing time. I learned about mom’s dreams – simple, yet authentic. I also learned to appreciate that she was now at a place in her life where her dreams are being realized in her roll as Nana (grandmother). I can appreciate that.

I love to see that my mother can finally, finally, finally, smile, and laugh, and tell me things about her life and her journey that she never could talk about before. I think it’s partially because she sees that I am now a woman who has had a few rough road experiences under her belt. We can finally talk woman to woman. It’s amazing to talk with her and see tears run down her face without trying to hide them anymore.

I’m especially tickled in how mom seems to be living vicariously though me these days, cheering me on, hoping that I can make my dreams come true. I may fall flat on my face, but I know I can get up, brush off, and find another way to live it.

Psssst! I still believe that dreams are discovered or revealed early on in life for some, and late in life for others . . . Don’t be afraid to fail, we all do it.


I paint and write because I can’t imagine doing anything else. I love it with a passion. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it.

I Paint and Write...

The Road Less Traveled

Pondering

When I reached a major turning point in my life well into adulthood I remember being completely anticipatory about trudging on especially after many years of living under an oppressive thumb -- I felt like a teenager getting a taste of freedom from my parents for the first time. I was cautioned by a number of well meaning people that I need to remember I will also have to face the consequences of my choices, so choose wisely.

Those words began to haunt me over and over again in my mind. I pondered upon these words of caution for many months. I began to worry about making wrong decisions. I was moved to investigate further this “Pondering” process in order rid myself of this growing fear.


That’s when I painted “Pondering.” For me, painting is a form of meditation, yet not always a peaceful one. Often times painting is an intense, and exhausting process. I engage my thoughts – “what am I trying to convey with this image?”, and these thoughts stick with me the entire painting session.

When I finished painting ‘Pondering’ I felt like the process taught me something very valuable. I will never REALLY know what my choice is until I have lived it.

“There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fill you with so much quail shot that you can’t move, and the kind that just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.” – Robert Frost

Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult - once we truly understand and accept it - then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters. - M. Scott Peck

The Road Not Taken (The Road Less Traveled)
By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Road Less Traveled

Schedule Bumping

The Never Ending "List"!

A good friend of mine, Michael, always talks about his list. He’s a list maker, so that’s what list makers do. He’s always commenting how his list never gets any shorter despite the fact that he’s always plugging away at it. “I know what you mean”, I tell him. But I’ve come to the conclusion that the list will never go away. There will always be a list.


I was a big time list maker in my 20’s. I used sticky notes, the back of business cards, napkins, receipts, or whatever I could get my hands on. I still suffer with occasional relapses of my list making. But now in my 40’s I don’t talk about my list so much anymore, now I notice that I do a lot of Schedule Bumping. I like it. It seems to be a healthier approach to my daily tasks. If I don’t get it done today, I’ll just bump it over to another day.

I use my iCal calendar on my iMac to manage my daily schedule. It has a lot of cool functions on it. For instance, I can send myself an email reminder to my cell phone direct from my calendar; it’s like my personal secretary. Then on my cell phone I can set my alarm to Vibrate, Voice Alarm, Melodies, or Ring Tones. I chose the voice alarm, because the voice sounds like that obnoxious character from the animated movie, Monster’s Inc – you know, the secretary with the drone voice. “Check Your Schedule!” the voice exclaims. It cracks me up. I haven’t come up with a name for the voice yet. She needs an appropriate name. Got any suggestions?

I suppose the only way the “List” ever ends is on the day we part this life. But who knows what’s waiting for us at the pearly gates. Another “List”? And will it be possible to do a little Schedule Bumping?

"Life is Too unpredictable to live by a schedule." - Life Quotes

"I am definitely going to take a course on time managment...just as soon as I can work it into my schedule." Louis E. Boone

"There cannot be a crisis today; my schedule is already full" - Henry Kissinger

Schedule Bumping

People Who Inspire Artists

Seventy is the New Forty

I’m constantly on the lookout for people with stories that inspire me . . . As I talk with people, just casual everyday conversation, I’ve discovered that most everyone has a very interesting life. Yet most people think their life is boring and uninteresting. Seems that the majority of people believe that the most interesting part of their life was in their youth, their “glory days” back in high school or college. You know, all the crazy shit that we managed to live through and tell about later. The stories that somehow become more and more embellished as the years go on. Those stories are certainly great at parties and help us laugh at ourselves.

I, however, like to look deeper into people’s souls for the stuff that has depth, purpose and real meaning. Things like those so-called “mistakes” that we made that we feel shameful about and tried to sweep under the rug, or the stuff that causes us to pause in silence and stare out the window with a deep, long sigh.

Seventy is the New Forty by Melanie Banayat
Click on image

Two years ago I had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful women, whose name I have changed for this story in the name of respect. At that time Cynthia was 74 years old and I was 41. We became instant friends, and we spent much time together for about six months when I was living in Mexico. Cynthia is like the energizer bunny reincarnated into this lovely woman with long salt & pepper hair, and signs of living a full life strategically sculpted on her beautiful face. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, and holds nothing back. She is magnetic; her six marriages are proof of that.

We shared a common courtyard with a lush garden and a swimming pool that looked out over Lake Chapala. Just three days after we met she was out on the sundeck sunbathing in the nude. No shame, no worries. Of course, her husband felt a bit differently. I thought it was great. I wanted to get to know this person who, at her age, could stand before a complete stranger naked as the day she was born and hold an expression of peace in her funny little grin.

Over the months we spent many hours just talking about our lives and the many stories that helped mold us into the people we had become. We shared a lot of tears and had many good, hard laughs. Through her stories I could see into her heart, and feel the pain that she still carried in her pocket. It was manageable now. She left an impression on me that inspired me to put fear in its place and embrace life in the moment.

The painting I did, Seventy is the New Forty, in honor of her interesting and inspirational life is not a portrait of Cynthia, but it carries a likeness of her spirit.

People Who Inspire Artists