abstract painting by emily weil

daily painting | art camp demo

Aaahhh… home from teaching at this year’s Feather River Art Camp. Even though the week was cut short by two days (an unexpected and tragic death of a camp staff member unrelated to the art camp team), we all rallied and dove into the arty waters and bonded and created and flourished. No massive hail storms this year! No gnasty gnats that draw blood! We did have a couple of very hot days, which made the swimming hole that much more refreshing. 

And although a mountain of laundry threatens to avalanche into my living room, I appreciate the week’s experiences — a wonderful group of open-hearted students, a roomy wooden-floored tent, getting to know fellow artists as we tread water together and lowered our body temps in the chilly creek, and a bonus of visiting my granddaughter and her two little girls in Sacto on my way home (she’s a fierce jiu jitsu competitor and was sporting a glorious shiner). Plus the added relief this year of not worrying about my very ill brother.

And I’m aware today that my emotions are a jumble! I think being vulnerable in my role as a teacher is catching up with me a bit, and I’ll be taking care of my heart today.

Now safely returned home I appreciate my comfy bed, a shower that isn’t shared by other campers, privacy in the loo (one morning I watched, on the stall wall, a small jumping spider creep up on a perched mozzie* like a cat and successfully land on it), my own home-cooked meal in the oven and the cooler breezes in Alameda. I am deeply grateful for my full and artistic life.

*British slang for mosquito

[This painting was a demo for our acrylic abstract class.]

10″ x 10″ acrylic, oil pastel, pencil on claybord = $140




10 x 10 abstract by emily weil

daily painting | dances

Today is mother’s day for me. By that I mean that adult-mom-Emily is looking after little-girl-Emily, my inner child (I know, that term gets laughed at a lot). This approach works for me. 

Sometimes little Em is feral. Fierce, angry, defiant. She had to grow up without direction or guidance or comfort and has had to figure out how to be a functional adult, and she’s a teeny bit pissed off. I’m fortunate that I have had counselors in the form of therapists and spiritual directors and grief counselors to help me find a stable way to live in this world. I’d be dead but for them. But I’m also plucky and resilient, and am finding meaning in this time of grief and loss. I am permitting myself to feel however I feel, regardless of people who are in a hurry for me to feel better (I’m waaaay past the point of taking care of other peoples’ feelings). The month of May has been a bit brutal as it’s the anniversary of my sister’s suicide, and her birthday a week later. It knocked me sideways, so I’m back to the basics of finding ways to soothe myself — journaling, taking walks, making art. Collapsing in a puddle of tears when necessary. Mainly just doing what’s in front of me. Practicing self-compassion (I recommend Kristin Neff’s website).

And one more note — did you know there’s something called a “warm line”? Different from a hot line — call options for folks who just need a little support (this info is for CA): https://www.mentalhealthsf.org/warm-line/ These days we need all the help we can root around for, like pigs digging up truffles. Thankfully I have a sensitive schnoz.

10″ x 10″ inktense ink sticks on paper = $140