Dragon Lotus

The Dragon Lotus.

Art that found itself sketched out. Drawn with Walter Anderson's acorn swirl over crossing pattern in mind.

The beauty of the lotus bites.
Life bites.
We found ourselves
loosing
gaining
loosing
straining.

Trying to figure out this one thing:
What is the purpose of life.

How do we best live, our best life.

Perhaps we are all afraid we will loose our "wild side". I guess I am.

I looked in lots of places, found all these "me's"- these faces looking back. I knew one thing, the bond between mother and child is a golden light that reaches into the center of the earth.

I want to have what a friend has, she has amazing incredible memories and traveled the world with her mom. I want to have that sort of relationship with my children. The dragon wild side will blend with the beauty of the lotus, there will be a path, it will be unique and one-of-a-kind. The dragon will fly and the lotus will grow its roots.

Perhaps the roots grow into the flames of the dragon. That makes a little sense.

Shaking my head. A little sense is all I have at the moment. So. We. Shall. Leave. It . Here.

Keep soaring wild lotus dragons. Keep finding the music of your soul.

Merging with another is a complicated dance. I hope you succeed.

Freedom_ line 10

I started making a spider's web, then it turned into this.
Original graphic created by:
Judith Parsons Art • San Francisco 2018

Line ten

“My lines are begging to be free, my lines are for freedom.”

I am playing with these lines, they surprisingly coincide with the events that are happening in my life.

I thought I could carry the extra energy of another soul again.

I would make statements, “overall- the good outweighs the bad. So all-in-all I kept swimming with this extra energy, using my arms to hold my love close to my chest. Time and time again the waters would rise, the winds would come and the waves would smash us in the face.

I felt I acquiesced over and over. I started to see, it didn’t matter to me- that there was a right and a wrong, I just wanted peace. 

But, that didn’t happen. Time and time again something would cause the storm to flare up. I guess, I wasn’t showing enough love, or wasn’t doing enough. It was always me not performing enough. not doing something enough.

Many times I kept telling myself I could gather all my strength in and keep carrying her in my arms. However, with every storm I took on water. I was becoming weaker and weaker with each storm.

I cried and prayed upon my back - floating and gasping for air, as the wind and the waves of the storm kept washing over me. I knew, that the all-in-all wasn’t balanced anymore. The bad was out weighing the good. I was the weaker one, I lost confidence in myself.  I was exhausted carrying this love that was no longer buoyant.

I felt heavy and sad. I sank. I kept holding on and let the storm take me down.

We keep hurting one another. I don’t want to give you false hope. 

Have we outgrown one another? We have changed one another forever. I am forever sad now, when I think of  us. How we will be on guard with one another. 

How we will wish and want for our love to be good, we will want for the good to outweigh the bad.

There is a shield up now. You probably have one now too. To protect your heart, because you also know we are dragging one another through the mud. 

I have never really thought of myself as stupid or ignorant. However, the love I held close to my chest revealed the slow learner, whilst we did the paper work. 

I realized I really became an artist because I really was slow, deficient in reading fast. I thought I had over come my learning challenges, and here they were - painfully in sight. 

Here I was back in elementary school, sitting in the library with head phones on, trying to learn to read. Back to square one. I could not answer your questions fast enough.

Finding that one paragraph in a stack of 12 pages was making my hands shake. 

You were angry and kept telling me you’d take care of it. Dismissing me. Like you were the parent. I tried, I kept gulping down my anger, grinding my teeth and reading through the answers. When right then I should have stopped and said;

“Listen to your gut J. Put it away, walk away. Let it all go.” 

It is time for divinity. Time to release everything. Time to just be.

We know.

The artist hands. Created by Judith Parsons Art
San Francisco 2018

Line 10

Margaret Parsons Artist Statement

"My
lines
hold,
kneel,
pray."

We pray
when we are at a cross roads.
We ask for divine guidance.
Deep down in our belly, we know when things
are
flowing.

We know.

line 9 No more rain.

Graphic designed and created by Judith Parsons Art • San Francisco 2018

I am taking my time, creating art for each sentence of my daughter's artist statement.

Her statement
is helping me
create and write my own.

Every Line of her statement
is about her "lines"

Line 9 is:
"My lines prod, investigate and caress."

Prod.
Such a lovely word. When someone"prods" along...what do you think of?
I think of a heavy pair of welding boots upon my feet, and trying to walk up these San Francisco hills.

I will never forget, one rainy night, after a long day in a metal welding class...I was walking to my apartment. And I was dragging my ass up the hill, moving slower than every one. My head was hung, and I was beat up tired. I will never forget the homeless man telling me not to give up. To keep going.
I raised my head, patted him on the arm. So dang tired, I smiled and nodded. and whispered: "Thank you."

It stayed with me, that night. The rain was refreshing. It was a cleansing sort of soft rain, not hard enough to run away from it. Just a nice easy rain.

So sorry, I got off track. Margaret's words, they heal me like water does. Her words caress me, they slip underneath my skin, they stay with me. She is ALWAYS supportive. I have never ever heard her say a negative word, EVER.

You know, that is an incredible energy to know, and I am so blessed to have her incredible love and support. I think I need to think upon heading toward the south, closer to where my daughter is. I want an adventuresome life. I want to travel the globe and do spiritual pilgrimages. I want to inspire folks and create incredible art.

For now, I am using my laptop and creating art from my bed. I do not have a studio, or a place to make art. So I use what I have. for now, I am deconstructing Margaret's artist statement...line by line.

Prodding along. Investigating the future by trusting in what feels right. Not fighting anything anymore. No more, standing under rain...just trusting in what is good and right.

The universe prods along, we investigate and hopefully find a soft cheek to caress along the way.

Pulling apart bodies.

Graphic composition created by Judith Parsons Art 2018
San Francisco. (Do not use without permission)

Line 8

“My

lines 

build

bodies

and pull them apart.”

The next creation, deconstructing Margaret Parson’s artist statement.

I went looking for art that stretched and pulled apart goo. Yes. Something elastic and rubbery and sort of hold-able. I found a photo of orange plastic looking stuff. A woman held it upon her two hands. It was stretched in between her hands.

The LINE part of the other 7 pages, I placed over the orange area and then “pulled it apart”.

Stretching the “LINES”. Trying to convey some sort of elasticity.

Margaret’s art isn’t messy or complicated like my art. Your eye follows her lines, which are sequential most of the time. There are places of crossing, which require you to stop, pause- as if at a four-way stop.

Though, generally she pulls the thread of energy deliciously. She keeps feeding it energy so that it never ends.

She is magic.

My daughter, is a genius. 

Follow her on instagram: marrrge or mparsonsart

Line seven

Created by Judith Parsons Art 2018
San Francisco

Last week I watched a video about Japan. The Suicide Forest was a place where people tied a string to a tree then they walked into the forest.

The string was their life line back out of the forest, it was also a string to help others find the body - if they indeed decided to end their existence.

 Margaret's artist statement:

"My
lines
are
intense,
perhaps
evoking
violence."

Today I have created a graphic which takes
you into the dark woods.

What string do you carry in your hand? What is the texture of the string? Is it a spool of ribbon? Is it basic kite string? Look at that line in your hand.

Now, drop the string and glance toward the sky. Be thankful for your beautiful existence, be thankful for your connections and your relationships.

The contrast of life and death give us intense perspective. Thank you Margaret for your intense words.

Line 6 Savor the sound.

Margaret Parsons Artist Statement Deconstructed.
Created by Judith Parsons Art 2018
San Francisco

Lines are enveloping. Like sound.

As I glance at the words I see my daughter smiling and standing in the waves, of sound and ocean. Her lines connect me to the sound waves of God.

These words are flying off my fingertips as I try and convey the way her light wraps around me, much like diving into the green endless sea of seeing into infinity.

Her art, her laughter, her love for love is everything. The tears are running down my face in gratitude, they want to transform me into the ocean of light and love of my daughter.

The love of sound and singing is where we are born. When we sing we are crying in tune. When we are babies we have no conception of crying in a way that is organized and enveloping.

This makes no sense. It is okay as everything flows and streams and moves in its waves of endlessness.

There is no marking of time, beside the can of coffee needing to be replenished. The days run into years and we see our mother’s in the bathroom mirror.

My mother sang her songs of her spirit. When she sang and when she swam she was in her element, she was enveloped in her self. Letting the spirit move her beyond the mundane into her realm of magnificence.

My daughter’s lines, her artist statement connects and wraps around me in the woven light of love. I am savoring the deconstruction of her sentences, her words, her self…

I wonder if she sees me in herself. Dang it, those eyes, they keep leaking.

Tears prepare for sacred transformation. Time to step up my life a bit. Maybe I will go stand upon the sand and let the water tickle my toes, and I will sing for her, for my mom and for my sisters and their daughters too.

Sing. Savor the lines.