Life, you are brilliant.

Of the $1000ish we need for Hannah to start dancing again, we’ve got $811. This means that her dance classes are completely paid for. She is officially going back to dance.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

To everyone who has donated, shared, sent love and supported, I am immensely grateful. Hannah is on a different planet. She got my message that we had the money while at work. I think she danced around that store all evening long.

The only thing we have left to do is buy her dance shoes and a leotard. I went into our local dance supply store last week to get exact prices.

So here we go:

Leotard => $30 + 15% = $34.50

With Paypal fees, maybe $37.00.

Ballet slippers => $37.00 + 15% = $42.55

With the fee that Paypal takes, we’ll probably need about $45.

Jazz shoes => $45.00 + 15% = $51.75

Again, including the Paypal fee, about $55.

Pointe shoes => $80.00 + 15% = $92.00

With Paypal’s fee, probably around $100.

That makes it a total of $237 left to raise.

That’s it.

I mean, she’s already in the class. Now we just need to get her the stuff to wear.

This is the final push – we are so close to getting her all set up. If you feel like you can help us get the rest of the way, that would be brilliant. See below for your options.

Thank you for helping us get this far. More importantly – thank you for believing in Hannah as much as I do. You’ve changed her life.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, read these posts:

Helping Hannah Dance – the heart rending story of why my friend Hannah was forced to abandon her dream of dancing over 7 years ago.

“I’ve never been so excited to be alive” - How your support, love and donations helped change her view of the world and her life.

A thank you from Hannah - A personal note from Hannah, expressing how grateful she is for all of your support. Bring tissues.

Moved? Inspired?

Here’s how you can help:

Option #1:

Some of you may remember my painting, “Ballet Shoes”. It’s been sold for years, and is no longer on the site, but I can make prints of it. (I know some of you have been wanting that!)

The print will be a signed 11”x14” (with border, size is 13”x16”) archival giclee print on Hahnemeule William Turner watercolor paper (trust me when I say, it’s delicious). It is archival, it is top quality, and if well taken care of, will last up t0 100 years. Yes, it costs more than a poster but that’s because it is so much more than a poster.

The print retails for $120 USD + $20 shipping anywhere in the world.

Option #2:

If you want to help, but can’t afford (or for you men out there, don’t want) a print, donations are super welcome. Seriously, even $5 will make a difference.

And if you did want the print, just let me know in the “Special Message to Seller” section of Paypal, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF so you can print it out at home.

Option #3:

Dying to help, but your pockets are lined with love and not money? We will so take your love!

Tweet it up, share it on Facebook, tell your friends, tell your family, whatever you can do, we will love you for it.

Did you really want the print too? Email me telling me how you shared the love, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF of the print as well, for your viewing pleasure at home.

Thank you.

And because dance is the only way to describe how we both feel right now, this:

I’ve discovered that getting up at 4:30am is actually quite lovely.

Jesse’s started a new job at work, working 6:30am morning shifts. Since he has to walk (buses don’t run that early!) he gets up at around 4:30 to be ready in time. I hate waking up alone, so I decided to get up with him.

It’s actually really wonderful to wake up slowly, do some Shiva Nata, drink a cup of tea with Jess and then head to the easel at around 5:30am. The sun is just coming up over the harbour and the light is lovely – cool and shimmering. The birds are just beginning to wake up and the day stretches before me, full of possibility (and possibly impromptu naps!). I feel so creative in that time and space.

Sketches on grey toned paper, © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2010

I’ve started work on the paintings for my application to France. One of the paintings is actually going to be of Hannah, and another will be of Jesse. I’m also going to do a self portrait and some plein air landscapes.

But one of the pieces is going to be a drawing. I’ve recently rediscovered my love of the pencil, and particularly drawings done on grey toned paper and highlighted with white pastel. Yummm. There’s a light filled, shimmering quality that happens. (See the image above to understand what I’m talking about.)

So the final piece will be a nude drawing done on grey toned paper. A friend of mine has couragously volunteered to be my nude model. (Can we just give her a round of applause? That’s gutsy.)

I’m really excited to work on it, as it’s a total change of pace and I love the way the finished product looks. It’s just delicious. I have a feeling there are going to be several more pieces like that coming your way in the near future.

Work in progress, Hannah, © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2010

In other news, I ordered myself a sketchbox the other day to start my own plein air painting adventure. I’m starting to get used to painting from life and I’m excited to start doing that for landscapes.

For those of you who aren’t artists, a sketchbox is like a little suitcase that you can put your paints and brushes in, and has a little built in easel to put your board on, and then you can take it with you anywhere and set up and paint. Handy, right?

Nude sketches from last year's show. © Sarah Marie Lacy 2010

More exciting news! My parents are in the process of mailing me my paintings and drawings from the Nude Show last year. The paintings should be arriving this week, fingers crossed and my drawings arrived the other day. It’s so strange to see work again that I haven’t seen in almost 12 months.

Speaking of which, I was going through my sketchbooks, looking for inspiration for the nude drawing, and I suddenly realized just how much my skills have improved. Sometimes I feel like I’m running in place, but over the past 2 years, since I started drawing from a live model, my work has improved so much! Like vast amounts. It was a really nice feeling, looking at my first drawing and then my latest one. I can see much clearer and my drawing is tighter, neater, crisper.

I had a bit of a shock when I looked back at the early drawings. My work looks almost exactly like my mentor’s at the time. I actually had a moment where my brain was like, “Weird. Why are there drawings done by Chris in here?” And then I realized that I had done them. It just goes to show how much you learn by copying and then branch off to develop your own style.

Look at that! Top image is from 2 years ago, bottom image is from last week:

Look how much my art has improved over the past 2 years!

Apparently this is going to be a week of noticing what is awesome in my life. It’s like I’m stepping back a bit and seeing just how much progress I’ve made. It’s incredibly satisfying, but more than that, it’s motivational. It’s inspirational. I’ve already come so far, I’m starting to see exactly what I’m capable of.

That might just be a tiny seed of self confidence that’s growing there. I’ll have to make sure I keep watering it.

I arrived on Prince Edward Island exactly one year ago today. One whole year. I can’t believe it. Can you believe it? Where the heck did the past year go? I feel like it’s been 6 months, at most. Not a whole year.

I can’t believe it’s gone so fast.

I just re-read my first post from PEI. I was in such an awful place. I was feeling scared, defeated, and out of my league. The Nude Show had just gone abysmally. I was completely broke. I was living far, far away from my home and it was all new and so adult. I had to figure out things like grocery shopping and meal planning and paying my bills and finding a job.

Things have changed so much. I’m making more money, I’m living in a beautiful apartment, I have lovely friends, and I feel like I’m somewhat on top of being an adult. I at least manage to pay my bills on time and make enough money to pay for all of them myself.

And I’m planning for the future too – plans like school in France and traveling the world and creating new bodies of work. It’s exciting. Things aren’t perfect, but then I’m slowly learning to stop hoping for the safety of perfection. Life is constant flux and I’m learning to enjoy it more than be afraid of it.

I really want to celebrate today. It feels important, significant. I’ve been completely independent for an entire year, which quite frankly, I think a lot of people doubted that I could do. I’m proud of myself. I’ve done quite well. I’ve dealt with health scares and new jobs and harsh rejection and just managing life on my own terms. I think it’s a pretty big deal.

And I’m proud of Jesse and I. We’re learning how to live together, how to share a home. It wasn’t always easy, especially in the beginning. We had to re-learn how to communicate. We saw each other at our worst and best. I know I brought a lot of unhappy patterns with me. I’m still unwinding them, but we’re both getting better at dealing with it when it comes up. Our relationship has gotten so much stronger after this past year. I love him more than ever. Some days, he’s just too wonderful for words.

So in honour of a year living on PEI, a visual record of our life together.

I can’t quite believe we did it. Go us.

P.S. We’re still trying to raise the money to help Hannah fulfill her dream of dancing again. If you’re interested in reading the story and helping out, go here.

Hannah really wanted to share how grateful she is for all of your support, and so I asked her to write a little something to share with you.

She’s written it so beautifully, that’s about all the introduction it needs.

Take it away, Hannah.

“I’ve tried to write this message a few times over now. Even now, as I have committed to this being my last draft, I simply cannot find the right words to say: Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.

Growing up in a toxic household, it was never an easy task for me to dream past the next day. As a teenager, I put my own happiness on the backburner. My main priority became making sure that my mother lived to see the next day. I took her safety, her sickness, and her addiction into my own young and unstable hands. It was my job to make sure she wouldn’t fall asleep in mid chew or with a burning cigarette between her fingers. It was my job to recognize the signs of a possible drug overdose. More importantly, it was my job to make sure she felt my undying love for her, regardless of how she had hurt me and my family, in fear of her suicidal tendencies.

Her pain and her suffering enveloped every fibre of my being. After a while, I didn’t want to live anymore, let alone dream anymore. I often hurt myself because I felt like I deserved it. I woke up one morning and thought about swallowing all of my mother’s pills. At that rate, I was convinced that I most certainly would not live to see past 18. It was just not something that I had the strength in me to do.

I’m 22 now and complete strangers are reaching out and encouraging me to follow my dreams. They are telling me, you need to dance. You need to be happy. And for the first time in my life, I truly believe that. Sarah let me look at her paypal account a few nights ago and I saw what you wonderful souls have been donating. I pointed my finger at the screen in awe and thought to myself, this person just bought me a pair of toe shoes. This person just bought me a leotard. These people are putting me through dance school.

To say that I am thankful would be an extreme understatement. How I feel right now could not possibly be put into coherent words so I will simply say this: Thank you for allowing me to dream again, but most importantly, thank you for helping me feel that I deserve to dream again.”

If you’re as choked up as I am after that, I’d really love it if you could share the love across the interwebs and maybe even donate. We’re currently at $635, and we need to make it to $1000.

The original post is here. And if you’d like to donate money, click those shiny yellow buttons below.

Here’s how you can help:

Option #1:

Some of you may remember my painting, “Ballet Shoes”. It’s been sold for years, and is no longer on the site, but I can make prints of it. (I know some of you have been wanting that!)

The print will be a signed 11”x14” (with border, size is 13”x16”) archival giclee print on Hahnemeule William Turner watercolor paper (trust me when I say, it’s delicious). It is archival, it is top quality, and if well taken care of, will last up t0 100 years. Yes, it costs more than a poster but that’s because it is so much more than a poster.

The print retails for $120 USD + $20 shipping anywhere in the world.

Option #2:

If you want to help, but can’t afford (or for you men out there, don’t want) a print, donations are super welcome. Seriously, even $5 will make a difference.

And if you did want the print, just let me know in the “Special Message to Seller” section of Paypal, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF so you can print it out at home.

Option #3:

Dying to help, but your pockets are lined with love and not money? We will so take your love!

Tweet it up, share it on Facebook, tell your friends, tell your family, whatever you can do, we will love you for it.

Did you really want the print too? Email me telling me how you shared the love, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF of the print as well, for your viewing pleasure at home.

Thank you.

I woke up feeling anxious today. I hurt my foot last night, which didn’t help, but I knew exactly what I was worrying about.

Raising the money for Hannah.

It’s about 6 days in, which I know isn’t a long time. But the initial flurry of activity has slowed down. We raised the first $500 in such a short amount of time – 3 days. We had people pledging money to come in the future. I got caught up in the frenzy, busy counting chickens that might never hatch.

This week it’s been so much slower. Less sharing on Twitter and Facebook, fewer donations. Less chat. Not to mention that I get really nervous about bugging people. I figure everyone’s heard all this already and if they wanted to help, they would have.

Soon the doubts start creeping in. Maybe I’m crazy for even thinking I can do this, say the voices. Who am I to think I could raise $1000 for someone? I’m not some glorified social media guru. I don’t have a huge audience. I’m just some little artist, the voices say. I don’t know anyone and I can’t do anything.

I start to think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, with my crazy determination and big dreams. I get so caught up in all the possibility, that it can be hard when I hit the ground again.

Perspective

I’m trying to maintain a sense of perspective. It’s been less than a week. I can’t predict the future. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow or next week. The only thing I can keep doing is to keep on trying.

But I may not raise all of the money. I have to face that fact. If I don’t, I’ll pay for whatever is left myself. I’ve promised my friend that she’s going to dance in September, and goddammit, she will dance. I will hold that bake sale on the front lawn.

Because at the end of the day, even if I doubt myself and my own ability to help a friend, I still completely believe in her dream of dancing again and I’ll do whatever I can to help her go after that. She’s working her ass off, getting back into shape and recovering her flexibility. She’s upholding her end of the bargain. I’ll be damned if I don’t hold up my end.

If you’re interested in helping, you can go read the post here or check out the options below:

Here’s how you can help:

Option #1:

Some of you may remember my painting, “Ballet Shoes”. It’s been sold for years, and is no longer on the site, but I can make prints of it. (I know some of you have been wanting that!)

The print will be a signed 11”x14” (with border, size is 13”x16”) archival giclee print on Hahnemeule William Turner watercolor paper (trust me when I say, it’s delicious). It is archival, it is top quality, and if well taken care of, will last up t0 100 years. Yes, it costs more than a poster but that’s because it is so much more than a poster.

The print retails for $120 USD + $20 shipping anywhere in the world.

Option #2:

If you want to help, but can’t afford (or for you men out there, don’t want) a print, donations are super welcome. Seriously, even $5 will make a difference.

And if you did want the print, just let me know in the “Special Message to Seller” section of Paypal, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF so you can print it out at home.

Option #3:

Dying to help, but your pockets are lined with love and not money? We will so take your love!

Tweet it up, share it on Facebook, tell your friends, tell your family, whatever you can do, we will love you for it.

Did you really want the print too? Email me telling me how you shared the love, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF of the print as well, for your viewing pleasure at home.

Thank you.

Sometimes I wonder if I am, in fact, one of the densest people alive. Really and truly.

But maybe this is just the lesson I need to learn right now.

Again and again, if I don’t do anything creative for longer than 3 days, I’m seriously cranky. The sad thing is, I then wonder why I’m cranky. Then once I start creating, I’m miraculously cheery. Then I inevitably remember that, Oh yeah, I haven’t created in a few days. That’s why I’m cranky!

Constantly creating is vital for my mental health and happiness. And yet, I’m constantly talking myself out of it.

I think I’m uncomfortable with my own happiness. I’m so jolly, so cheerful when I’m creating on a regular basis that it kind of freaks me out. I can’t possibly be allowed to be that happy, right?

Writing that, I know it’s ridiculous. Everyone’s allowed to be happy. But my own happiness makes me nervous. I think it’s the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sure I’m happy now, but what about tomorrow? Next week? Next year?

I’m usually so geared up waiting for the next disaster, that it’s hard for me to just relax and enjoy my own joy.

Learning to be present in the moment and not worry about the past or the future is one of the things that constantly challenges me. It’s also one of the motivations behind my art, particularly my landscapes.

Sunlit Bay © Sarah Marie Lacy 2010. Oil on canvas, 8"x10"

For me, painting nature is an exercise in appreciating those still moments where you’re really present with life. It’s about paying attention to what’s around you in that brief moment and then (trying) to immortalize it in paint. Sometimes I manage it, sometimes I don’t. But slowly, one painting at a time, I’m training myself to be still.

Hannah’s Dream

We’re still raising money to send Hannah back to dance class. Here’s what’s been going on:

- We’ve raised over $500 in 4 days! We’re already halfway there thanks to your generosity. You have all been so wonderful with your support and well wishes and donations.

- We’ve got a post up on Edwards Magazine, so the word is spreading!

I’m hoping to raise the final $500 over the next week. My plan is to have it all raised by Sunday. I’m positive we can do it. And later on in the week, I’m going to post a message from Hannah, who is just so overcome with gratitude right now. She told me this morning that she wishes she had elastic arms that she could stretch to hug all of her supporters all over the world. This is why I love her.

If you’re moved to help, go read the post, tweet it, put it on Facebook and share it with your friends. Every little bit counts and the more we spread the word, the faster this will go!

http://smlacyart.com/helping-hannah-dance/

Thank you so much again to everyone who has helped so far. You’re all wonderful.

When I posted about Hannah’s story on Thursday evening, I was not expecting to have raised $300 within 6 hours.

I knew that y’all were a generous, wonderful bunch, but you have floored even me.

But you know what?

It is so not about the money.

Well, not completely. I mean, it’s a really awesome tool for what we need to get done.

And I’ll admit, when I first started planning this, it was totally about raising the money. But it’s kind of transformed into something far more beautiful this week.

It’s become a transformational process for Hannah. She is finally getting the chance to take something that was painful and awful – something she often tried to run away from and ignore – and turn it into something positive.

She gets to share her story and have it touch people’s lives. She gets to share her story and connect with others who went through similar experiences.

But most importantly, she’s opened herself up to receive support.

Hannah was completely beside herself last night when I called her and told her everything that was happening. She didn’t even know what to say. She described it as being full of movement and yet completely still at the same time. She keeps thinking she’ll wake up from this wonderful dream.

No one has ever supported her before. Here on PEI, friends didn’t even know of her dream. Her boyfriend only knew of it in passing. So to have me find out and then be all “Omg, of course you should dance!” (as I’m wont to do) was this crazy new experience for her.

Complete and total strangers are encouraging her to follow her dream. Complete and total strangers believe in her enough to open their wallets and hand her over $100.

Her mind? It’s blown.

But sometimes even more moving are the ones who can’t afford to donate much – maybe $2 – but want to do whatever they can because they believe in her dream.

By supporting her with your words and your love, you are changing the way she sees the world. You are showing her that life can be amazing and that people are cheering for you. That there are people out there who want you to win.

It is the most inspiring thing to watch.

I spent an hour on the phone with her this morning. She is so full of hope and excitement. And then she said these words, which got me pretty damn teary-eyed:

“When I was younger, I never thought I’d live past 18. I didn’t want to live past 18 -  I thought my life would be awful. Now here I am, 22, and I have never been so excited to be alive.”

I am so proud of her for starting to create a life that she loves. I’m honoured that I get to be a small part of that.

Thank you to everyone who has contributed so far. To you, they may be small, simple gestures of support, but for her, it feels like a miracle.

Let’s keep that love rolling in!

Go here to read the whole story and make a donation if you feel so inclined.

A girl with a secret dream.

Hannah was one of the first people I met on the island. It took us a little while to get to know each other (I was still feeling pretty hermit-ey when we first met) but within a couple of months we’d bonded over a shared love of dance and lolcats, and the fact that she is the sweetest, kindest, goofiest, loveliest person ever. (Can you tell I’m a fan?)

When one of my favourite ballet companies came to PEI, she was the first person I thought of to come with me. While sitting in the audience waiting for the show to start, I asked her why she’d stopped dancing. She was so passionate about it, and so excited to see the ballet, I just couldn’t understand why she would have ever stopped. I knew she’d moved here from Arizona, so I wondered if it was the move that had caused it.

What she told me, as tears streamed down her face, shocked me and very nearly broke my heart. (More on that in a bit. Keep reading.) Then she explained that even though she wanted to dance again now, she was a student and definitely didn’t have the extra money for expensive things like ballet classes.

I knew I had to do something to help. Dancing was her dream. I couldn’t just stand there and let it drift away from her, knowing I could do something about it.

So I promised her that if she found dance classes for September, I would raise the money to pay for them.

And that’s what we’re doing here today.

First though, I want to share her story.

Hannah has very courageously written about her story in the hopes that by sharing what happened, she might be able to help someone else. (Didn’t I tell you she was wonderful?):

“I started dancing when I was five years old.  At first it was something that I shared with my mom.  We danced at the same studio and did the Nutcracker together every single year.  She did my hair and my stage makeup and reminded me that I was beautiful every chance she got.  Even if I fell or forgot my placing, she told me that I danced marvellously.

She stopped dancing when she got sick again.  I say “again” because she’s been an on and off drug addict for the majority of her adult life.  So then I stopped, too.

When I was ten, I joined a competitive dance team.  I asked my parents to sign me up for as many classes as possible – and they did.  My skills quickly progressed and I made so many friends with the same passion as mine.  I danced all year round and performed in countless recitals.

When I was almost fourteen, my mom accompanied me to a dance tournament/workshop in Las Vegas.  On the one hand, I was so excited for my mother to be there with me – to cheer me on and maybe even do my stage makeup like old times – but on the other hand, I was scared and embarrassed of her.  She was using again and the whole team knew it.

The first sign of trouble was when my teammates and I were getting ready.  They all had their moms with them, crimping their hair and fixing the holes in their tights.  But I couldn’t find my mom.  I was about to go on stage to perform dances that had been rehearsed meticulously for months – in front of some pretty tough judges – and I couldn’t find my mom.

I don’t really remember what I thought at the time.  Maybe I thought that she was just passed out in the hotel room which, in retrospect, would have been worlds better.  Regardless of the situation, I danced my heart out and the judges must have noticed.  One of our dances got second place and beat out some of the most prestigious schools in the country.  I was so happy that I was brought to tears.  I couldn’t wait to show my mom my medal.  Until I saw her.

After the award ceremony was over, my mom was waiting for me offstage.  She grabbed my arm and angrily said, “We’re not doing THIS again.  YOU’RE never DANCING again.  You’re DONE.”

I tried to hold it together in front of my teammates.  “Mom, didn’t you see?  We won!  We placed second!”

“No you didn’t,” she growled, “Don’t lie to me.  You’re finished.”

As she stormed off, a friend of mine grabbed my arm and walked around with me to try and calm me down.  She assured me that there was no way my mom was going to make me stop dancing.  She’s just tired, she said.  But she wasn’t tired.  She was drunk and angry as hell.  At me.  Through my tears, I caught my mom glaring at me from the other side of the room, shaking her head.  I could tell she was only getting angrier for the things she must have imagined I was telling my teammates.  Soon we were driven home by a teammate and her mother.

At this point, all I can remember is my mother screaming at me and smacking me in front of my friend and her mom.  When we were dropped off at our hotel, my friend’s mom hugged my mom and said, “Go easy on her, okay?”  That’s it? I thought. Go easy on her?  You’re not going to help me? I knew that, that night, I was going to be in a lot of trouble.

When we got back to the hotel room, my mom through me on the bed and started beating me.  She screamed that she hated me and how badly she wished she had never come here.  When she was finished, she fell asleep for a long time.  I don’t remember sleeping.  All I remember is wishing someone, anyone, would call the police.  My entire dance team knew about the state my mother was in and no one helped me.  Nobody saved me from my mom.”

I can barely even read that last sentence. It kills me. “Nobody saved me from my mom.” I wish I could turn back time and change everything for her.

But I can make a difference now. She deserves to start dancing again, and I will raise the money for her to do it – even if I have to hold a bake sale on my front lawn.

All of us have those secret (or not-so-secret) dreams. Some of us act on them, some of us don’t. Some people look back and wish they had. I really believe that all of us have the right to follow our dreams and our passions, but it can be hard, especially when no one believes in us.

I want to show Hannah that someone believes in her, and that someone supports her. I want to show her that life doesn’t have to be this thing where you work at a job you hate, and then you die.

I want to show her that there’s more, and I would really love it if you could help me do that.

Here’s how you can help:

Option #1:

Some of you may remember my painting, “Ballet Shoes”. It’s been sold for years, and is no longer on the site, but I can make prints of it. (I know some of you have been wanting that!)

The print will be a signed 11”x14” (with border, size is 13”x16”) archival giclee print on Hahnemeule William Turner watercolor paper (trust me when I say, it’s delicious). It is archival, it is top quality, and if well taken care of, will last up t0 100 years. Yes, it costs more than a poster but that’s because it is so much more than a poster.

The print retails for $120 USD + $20 shipping anywhere in the world.

Option #2:

If you want to help, but can’t afford (or for you men out there, don’t want) a print, donations are super welcome. Seriously, even $5 will make a difference.

And if you did want the print, just let me know in the “Special Message to Seller” section of Paypal, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF so you can print it out at home.

Option #3:

Dying to help, but your pockets are lined with love and not money? We will so take your love!

Tweet it up, share it on Facebook, tell your friends, tell your family, whatever you can do, we will love you for it.

Did you really want the print too? Email me telling me how you shared the love, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF of the print as well, for your viewing pleasure at home.

Thank you.

Thank you even just for giving me your attention this long. I really appreciate it.

Every single cent raised over the cost of print production will go to Hannah to pay for the dance classes, dance clothes & shoes and costumes for the recital.

If you want to get in touch with Hannah, you can email her at klein_hannah@hotmail.com.

Thank you so much, everyone. It’s amazing knowing that I have this awesome community of people to turn to when I really want to help out a friend.

You are too awesome for words.

Update: I probably should have posted this before, but completely blanked in my enthusiasm – we need to raise $1000 for Hannah to dance again. Might be a bit less, but I figure if we go over, she can just get super nice pointe shoes, yes?

Me in the studio, with a nude in progress.

I am, occasionally, accused of working too much (usually by well-meaning friends).

It’s probably true. I work a lot. Longer than 8 hour days, by far. Probably closer to 10-12.

But it doesn’t usually feel like work to me. This is what I’d be doing for fun if I had a cubicle job. This is what I would choose to do over almost every other activity. I get really excited about art and business. I always have, ever since I realized that it was totally possible for me to do both those things.

But it goes deeper than that. It’s not just “this thing I do for fun.”

It is my passion, and my life line. More importantly, it’s how I remember who I am.

Most importantly - it’s mine.

Mine and y’all can’t have it.

I started my business because I felt like nothing belonged to me anymore. My body hardly did – it belonged to the doctors who poked and prodded at it. I was completely dependent on my parents for everything. I had no form of independence. My life wasn’t my life anymore. My life belonged to medication, naps, doctors’ offices and attempts to finish school.

But when I started my business, it had nothing to do with those things. My parents tried to give well meaning advice and wanted to help me run it. I think they were baffled by how protective I was of it. I didn’t want their help. I didn’t want anyone’s help. I wanted to make these decisions on my own. I wanted to do things by myself.

My business was my first taste of independence. As I breathed life into it, it breathed life back into me. It gave me something to think about, even if I was too sick to leave my bed for a month. It gave my life purpose, meaning.

It gave me hope.

Now it’s my safe place.

When life gets scary, or hard, or it hurts, I usually retreat to my business. I work harder, longer hours. Partially I do it to forget, but partially I do it to heal. My business reminds me that I have something bigger to work on than the day to day pettiness of life. It gives me perspective, helps me to step back by giving my mind something else to chew on apart from my own fears.

Sometimes I’m writing here, sometimes I’m planning new marketing tactics, sometimes I’m just painting, or photographing my work. Doesn’t matter. There is a calmness in working on my business that I don’t get from a lot of other things. It helps me to center, to remember myself amongst the chaos.

My business is my baby, as much my own creation as any of my paintings. Not everyone understands, but it’s mine.

Strawberries, © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2010. 5"x7" oil on canvas board.

This week has been fantastic as far as studio time goes. I am back on a creative roll!

I just kept finding that flow. I contribute a lot of that to the Dance of Shiva. It just gets my brain all wired up for creativity.

But the most important thing I did to go from 2 hours a week in the studio, to over 16 hours over 4 days?

Prioritized.

Sounds so obvious, so blase right? But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t do it the way those time management gurus tell you to, with their military sense of time and their punishing ways- oh the guilt and shame! So not my thing.

There was no list making, no “This is the most important, and this is second most important and blah blah blah.”

I made a decision. I said to myself, “What is important? What matters the most to me, out of everything that I need to do in a day?”

And of course, the answer came back, Art.

That was that. My day now revolves around my art. The very first thing I do in the morning is my art. It has priority. And when I’m finished with that, everything else can happen. But not before that. No emails will be checked, no dishes will be done, no websites will be designed.

First, I will paint. Everything else can sort itself out.

Not to mention, one of the brilliant side effects of this method is that I’m embarrassingly happy for the rest of the day. I skip, I sing at the top of my lungs, I dance around the house, I smile like an idiot.

I’m doing what I love. What more could I ask for?

And I’m making sure that I’m doing what I need to do to support my creativity – I do 15 minutes of Dance of Shiva (just started level 2!) and then 10-15 minutes of savasana meditation. Bam! I’m in flow. I’m on. My brain yells, Create! and I happily follow its command.

I’m still kind of playing with things. I mean, I didn’t blog all week and I don’t want to completely abandon the ways that I share my art, so I’m going to have to find a balance between my art and my marketing time as well as my jobs. It’s a work in progress. I’ll have to experiment and see what works best for me.

In the meantime, you can enjoy this interview with me over at Magpie Girl, with the wonderful Rachelle Mee-Chapman in her Chronically Creative series.

Also, some of the pieces that I’ve been working on:

Nude work in progress, © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2010. 12"x16" oil on canvas.

Strawberries, work in progress. © Sarah Marie Lacy 2010. 5"x7" oil on canvas board.

Self Portrait work in progress, © Sarah Marie Lacy. 12"x16" oil on canvas.

The White House, © Sarah Marie Lacy. 16"x20" oil on canvas, SOLD.