Chatishine

2009-05-22T15:19:00.000-07:00

Day 9: Making a Mess

Ok now I feel like I've really, completely made a mess of this painting. I've been pushing it too much that it's now overworked. Too much thinking. That never gets me to my best work. I have to be empty when I get to the canvas. I have to be breathing well. I need to work on my issues away from the piece for now. Need to do some yoga. That's what Day 10 should be about. Then I'll be ready to just be open to it.

2009-05-22T15:12:00.000-07:00

Day 8: Paintings Up

Edber and I finally got most of the paintings up. Just enough so I can figure out where to place the ones I haven't finished yet. Composing the arrangement of paintings in a room is a different medium (Where's Myk when you need him?!). It involves seeing which paintings are conversing with each other. I wanted to make it an imperfect balance. To have something slightly off. Still figuring out the logistics of having an opening reception.

2009-05-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

Day 7: Etymology

A phrase kept ringing in my head for the last couple of days: "And then she invented the word, "Open". I was thinking what the world must have been like before this word arrived on someone's lips. I think of how in Mecca's world, things must still belong to oneness. Things must still bleed into each other. Then, one day, we point to something and say, "apple". And the apple becomes separate from everything else---becomes an object in her consciousness. Then, the illusion begins.

I thought of how language fortifies the illusion that we are separate (you--me) but keeps us together as well. I used to be more in tune with Mecca's mind. I used to know what she needed, almost instantly. Now, there's this gap that separates us. Maybe it started when she realized that I wasn't one of her limbs. Now we both get frustrated with this disconnection. We need language to connect us again. Things are happening naturally this way. Otherwise, if we were psychically connected all the time, why bother speaking?

This brings me to the word, "Open". What was it like when there was no word for this concept/feeling/thing ? When I painted today I wrote down the phrase--with a little change:

and
then
on a particularly gray day,
she invented the word,
OPEN
(and it was a good word)

Maybe this word wasn't invented to describe a concept. Maybe it was a command. A spell.

2009-05-13T16:03:00.001-07:00

Cocoon

In the mind's cocoon
is a lotus
giving birth
giving breath
to constellations
the stars sing
vibrations that set
the lotus on fire.

Every cocoon
is a temple.
Every temple
must be on fire.

In the mind's cocoon
is a lotus
giving birth
giving breath
to a city with iron wings.
The city is made of
wielded,
welded sparks
sparks that set
the lotus on fire.

The mind is a cocoon.
The cocoon is a temple.
Every temple must be on fire.

Fire transforms
mountains to skyscrapers
skyscrapers to dust
dust to constellations
constellations to music
music that makes fire.

A mind on fire makes butterflies
Butterflies are flowers
that have learned
how to fly.
In my mind's cocoon
is a lotus
a lotus
on fire.

2009-05-13T15:38:00.000-07:00

Day 6: Away Part 2

I need some time to just sit and breathe. I don't want the work to come from pressure. That never turns out well for me. I'm not one of those bits of coal that turns into a diamond from pressure. Maybe I'm a bit of coal that's just loving the experience of being a bit of coal. Dreaming of one day turning into fire that starts a chain of magical events.

Painted over the conquistador painting yesterday. It's not that I'm starting over. I'm just building over what's there. Adding history to it. I've got to find my peace before I continue with it. I'm writing this with a huge migraine and with Mecca feeling sick, too. Our bodies are telling us something. Mine is actually screaming at me with this migraine. I have to listen to what it's saying.

I have to take a double dose of gratitude today. That's my antidote to everything.

2009-05-13T15:25:00.000-07:00

Day 5: Late Blog Away from Work:

Painted on Monday, May 11th, but didn't do the blog until today, May 13th. I felt like I forced it that day. I'm not the kind of person that can paint through a lot of emotional stress. This is just such a huge, packed week for me and for little family.

Brought Mecca with me to the gallery to paint. She did much, much better than I did. She went for it and looked good.

It occurred to me how she does everything so naturally. Right now, reasons to avoid doing things do not exist for her. There is only reason to go for it. I've learned (more like confirmed)from observing Mecca early on that Desire is a bigger impetus to act than fear. Most of her learning from birth has to do with desire. Learning how to walk was not an exercise in fear. It was an exercise in desire. The desire to explore the world around her.

I've learned so much about being human from being a mother. More on this later. Right now, it's time to let the painting breathe. I have to find its soul later.

2009-05-08T12:53:00.001-07:00

Day 4: Listening Away

I felt like I had to step away from the painting today. I need to listen. I need to really SEE it when I come back. Sunday is Mother's Day, so I'll be back to the gallery on Monday.

From Listening: My gift today is knowing what the gift is.

2009-05-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

Swoosh <2009> By Mecca Mamisao and Chati Coronel <72"X48"> Acrylic on Canvas

Day 3: Swoosh, Priming, Conquistadors and Eternal Wonder

I finished Swoosh today. I came into the gallery and knew I had to do more work on it. After meditation, I wrote on the canvas: We are twinkling, fluctuating stars. Mass-Energy-Mass. Mass-Light-Mass. And that was it. I knew it was done.

Painting #2:

I spent a lot of time priming the second canvas today. Priming is a big deal to me,a big part of the process of painting. It's not just about making sure that the surface is even and prepped for the color that will be painted over it. It's the start of the painting itself. Because it comes right after my meditation ( I do 100 breaths or a session of chanting before I paint), priming is a direct extension of my meditation.

Today, I got a lot of insight while priming:

First, I realized that by priming the canvas, I am giving this piece of cloth its history. And because paint comes in varying degrees of transparency, a lot of this history shows through my work. Much like people carry their history with them whether they mean to or not.

Then, I looked at my hand and thought about my history. Specifically, the history of my hand. This led to my next insight. I watched my hand make brushstrokes and thought of my ancestors. I thought about my ancestors' hands. The DNA coursing through my hand is the same as the DNA in theirs. Same as that hand somewhere in history that threw a spear through someone's heart. That picked coconuts from a tree. That hand that held a rail to board a Spanish Galleon or that hand that scribbled equations on a blackboard. Or that hand that held another's for 50 years.

I thought about the simplicity and the magnitude of the history of my hand. And how all that history goes into each brushstroke. I blessed this painting with the power of all my ancestors. More importantly, with this painting I blessed all the hands that made mine.

As I was finishing up for the day, I thought about the people that say painting is dead. How can it be dead when it is still filled with so much wonder? Painting is a mystery I never want to solve.

2009-05-06T14:19:00.000-07:00

Day 2: Swooshing, Painting with Mecca

I think I will change my start time at the studio. I try to get there by 8 am but Edber and I haven't perfected our system yet. I still make breakfast--made banana nutella crepes today-- and then make my way downstairs. I love slow breakfasts. I have to really enjoy that coffee. Living , being very very alive is giant a part of this process!

Edber's finishing a project so I took Mecca with me. Mecca and I have drawn together but this is the first time we painted with each other. She chanted with me, too! She was saying Ommmmm with her hands together. Such an amazing creature. We walked around the gallery while chanting. We blessed the space with our voice. I love Mecca's voice. I can't wait to have conversations with her. I guess painting IS our conversation today.

I had a dream the other night that we had moved some big shelf in our place and suddenly, our place opened up. Expanded. I feel like this is what painting is doing to my heart. I move molecules and then my heart opens up. Expanding.

Mecca and I started today by painting a new layer over the last one. The color of milk. Mecca made some squiggly marks on the side. White on white. Looked like Japanese script. I loved it. Her strokes made the painting feel very zen--especially because she was making these marks from top to bottom.

Then I wrote the word SWOOSH! which will probably be the title of the piece. I was thinking of a quote from Bjork about going down to the bottom and then going swoosh! This was my swoosh! I was happy to be swooshing with Mecca. I am happy that Mecca blessed this painting, too.

I think I'm onto something. This fits. This makes sense to me. Looks like a strange looking flower, I think I will continue with this thread. I can see the difference in my strokes. Squiggly like Mecca's, playful, childlike but very decisive. There is nothing tentative about them. I have blessed this painting with my whimsy and my big courage, today.

2009-05-04T16:07:00.000-07:00

Open Studio

I am creating a new thread with this blog to coincide with painting in a new space at the Groundfloor@Santeecourt gallery. I'll be painting there every morning from 8am to 12 pm (except Tuesdays and Saturdays). I'm opening the studio during these hours to invite people to come in and see/ be part of the process. My love and gratitude flies out to Chris and Andrew and Sarah for sharing the space with me.

Day 1: A New Open Listening

I am listening through the brush again. Breathing, blessing through the brush again. Today I set up my painting office, which is a trunk on wheels, at the gallery on the ground floor of the building where we live.

It felt like an old tune in my head. A very very old hum coming back into my heart and my mind. Like I never lost a beat. It felt like home. My home/hum moving through me. I felt plugged into the source. Easy.

Here's my theory. If I can somehow contain a blessing--the light vibration of something good and nourishing--in canvas, push it in there with paint, then that blessing can shine out of that piece of cloth into the space where it's placed. Maybe I can change the vibration in a room-the quality of energy that people are immersed in. Maybe this is how to encourage peace and happiness into another's life. Crazy, no? Ambitious, but I'm going for it.

I started my first two blessing vessels today. Worked on the first layer. As usual, my listening first brought words. Open here now listening being. Om shri maha lakshmiyei swaha (my abundance, health, creativity mantra). Words opened up to color. I'll let it sit that way in space until I paint next. I want to feel it change the energy in that room.

2007-11-29T20:33:00.001-08:00

Look
Here is
a moment
passing
eroding
from your skin
do you hopskotch
through it
from one to the next?

Some moments
roll
like avalanches
and some moments
sneak away
like ninja.

You catch
a moment
with a good breath
inhale the moment
exhale the moment

Look
here is
a moment
a brand new moment
for a
brand new breath

2007-11-07T13:40:00.000-08:00

An Army of Good Things

When I opened my eyes today, I could see the sky from my bed and the clouds looked like funny lumps of cotton systematically arranged to form an army of soft wings. I thought, "An army of good things is on its way." I turned my head to see our 8 month-old Mecca sleeping beside me and my beautiful husband sleeping beside her. I thought, "My army of good things is here, now."

These thoughts started chasing other thoughts in my head and I came up with the idea of starting a group where people could share the good that is happening in their lives, or good things that they've found or read or tasted or discovered. People who are allergic to shiny/happy people and shiny/happy things will say, "That's sweet, but very naive and very ignorant and very escapist--just think of the wars, just read the newspapers, and watch the news"! They say, "There are many many new things to be afraid of everyday!"

The point is not that there isn't a bad /sad thing going on. The newspapers and news shows of the world are already covering that. The point is, that the sun still shines (sometimes not in Vancouver, but it will) and people still bake bread and people still write songs and paint pictures. The sunrises and sunsets are still beautiful everyday. Babies are born to delighted parents, presents are wrapped and unwrapped. Many many people are healthy and have enough to eat. The point is-- not seeing the good things in the world is just another form of denial.

Many people inspire me to make this happen: A brave journalist named, Cheche Lazaro created a one-minute news show in the Philippines, called "The Good News" that covered just that. A minute of good news a day, sandwiched between tacky tele-novelas and "real" news programs. I don't know if she still does it, but it was powerful enough for me to still be thinking about it years later. The Dalai Lama, in "The Art of Happiness" says, "find what makes you happy and cultivate it. know what causes your suffering and avoid it". So simple, it's brilliant!

The biggest inspiration I have for forming an Army of Good Things is Mecca. Before my husband and I decided to have Mecca, we had a very interesting conversation with a great artist and a great friend of ours about having children. He said that he saw no good in having children because it only continues our chain of suffering. With the state that the world is in, why would we want to pass it on to new suffering humans? Well, we went ahead and had Mecca anyway.

I did think about it. I thought about what was good about being human. Why do we---from our divine, endless state of grace---bother with the effort to be in this carbon-based, organic, bio-degradable, icky, itchy space suit that is the human body?

My husband, Edber and I see the good in the world. That is worth passing on to some happy human. We love being human... seeing/hearing/smelling/tasting/feeling/creating/expressing life. This is worth sharing. Everyday, I take a bold-patterned scarf and put some perfume in it and make swirling, dancing movements with it in front of Mecca's face. I rip out those perfume samples in magazines and let Mecca have a whiff of each one. I scrape some banana or crush some peas for her to taste. I make noise with different tools from the kitchen. I touch her often and sing to her even more. Everyday, I see her face light up with something new or something familiar. Everything is clear to her right now.

One day, when she is more "human" in the sense that she is concerned about political climates, economic stability of nations, cultural disintegration and general dis-ease, I would like to present her with this gift of "An Army of Good Things" to remind her of the gift of being overwhelmed with beauty. The gift of a Beatles song (All You Need Is Love) or a Neruda poem, or a Chagall painting. we all know how it feels. I think it's important to be reminded of what makes us human.

This is an open invitation for anyone who would like to share something good with the rest of the world.What inspires you today? What makes you overflow with joy today? What's keeping you going? What thought makes you smile? Show us a picture. What made your taste buds jump for joy? What makes you happy to be alive today? What are you grateful for? It will be good to know how many humans are happy today. It will be good for us all.

2007-07-02T15:36:00.001-07:00

There is nothing in the world like this. I am closer to God as a mother than I have ever been in my life. This is the most intense prayer of all.

2007-07-02T15:30:00.001-07:00

Heavily influenced by the intense, new experiences of pregnancy, giving birth and motherhood, the paintings in this new show are my most raw and most honest to date. Minus is a continuing series of work stripped down to my most basic expression. Painting strokes erasing strokes. Saying less, revealing more.

2007-01-29T13:31:00.000-08:00

2007-01-29T13:29:00.000-08:00

2006-10-27T15:47:00.000-07:00

Courage Paintings

Finally, after 4 months of not being able to paint due to morning sickness, these giants have come out of me. Presenting my new, 6ft X 5ft paintings!

I painted "Dark Flowers and Fireflies" first and it shows all my pent up energy for the whole time I wasn't able to pick up a brush. It's epic.

The second painting is called, "Mother/Mother". It's not about my mother, rather about me becoming a mother. It feels like flowing milk to me.

Both paintings were exercises in courage. From reading all the pregnancy books and seeing all the risks that my baby is being exposed to for just being inside me, I realized one thing. The thing that I don't ever want to pass on to my child is fear. What I strive for as a mother-to-be is to be able to give the gifts of courage, love, health and happiness. The only way that I will be able to give these gifts is to cultivate my own courage, my own love, my own health and happiness.

The first four months of meditaion and contemplation (these were about the only activities that I could do during those months that my body had absolutely taken charge!) was Mecca's gift to me. There were issues that I had to deal with. There was much internal/spiritual preparation to go through. These courage and love exercises-the first of a series, I think- these are my gifts to Mecca.

2006-09-14T22:20:00.000-07:00

2006-09-14T20:30:00.000-07:00

Great News!

I guess it's alright to just throw this out into the universe now... I'm pregnant! 13 weeks and counting! We're very very very excited.

This is our great new collaboration.

I realize that pregnant women glow because inside them shines twice the light. It still amazes me, especially when I'm doing ordinary things, like waiting in line at the grocery store or choosing a book at the library or eating. It hits me. This wave of awe hits me. There's a life forming inside me. Somehow, this divine energy has chosen to manifest itself through Edber and I.

At other times, a different wave hits me. Everything tilts slightly to the side, like the earth is tipping. Nausea. Waves and waves of it throughout the day. Nature's way of having me lay down without protest. Of having me be aware that my body is in charge for now. And is it ever so loud! My body hollers at me like a drill sergeant when I exert too much effort, when I eat something that's not quite good for me. It magnetizes me toward healthy things. Like fruits and vegetables and fresh air and trees.

It's all true. There's nothing like this. No painting will ever match this creative process. I am constantly aware of being part of something bigger than me. I am constantly aware that the same creative force that allowed the universe to be is working inside me. This is the most sacred thing I've ever experienced.

I feel like I am being carefully prepared to step up to the next level of my consciousness. A new godliness. a new godessness. I am about to tap into powers I haven't used in this lifetime.

I am excited, but at the same time, scared. How have other women gone through this? Can I handle it? CAn I be a good mother? MOTHER. One of the biggest words in the English language. It's up there with SKY or OCEAN or SPACE. Can that word fit in me?

This is my gift right now. The gift of being still and treating myself to what's good for me ( and the baby of course). The gift of being polished, like a gem. No more rough spots. I have to be better. I am better. With twice the light, twice the power. I will never look at other mothers the same way. I bow with my deepest respect to all of you.

2006-09-06T15:43:00.000-07:00

The You of Kisses

I have known you for thirteen years.
Your body should be made of my kisses by now.

No,no. Not muscle and bone but kisses.
Hard kisses and soft kisses

Kisses and kindnesses
make you up.
which is why you always smell like
all the good things I've ever known

What are kisses
but all the good things we never said?

Long kisses and fast kisses
ones by the door
ones sprawled over by the couch
consolation kisses
question kisses

Your body of kisses
is made of all my truths
all my missing
all my silliness
pent up

Bottled in a pair of cupped lips
transferred though your skin
or your mouth
sometimes waiting

After thirteen years
you are now made
of my good kisses
and I am made of yours

2006-09-06T15:41:00.000-07:00

I Hold Your Hand

I hold your hand
skin, biology
mass, volume
moment
atoms

I hold your dust.

Illusion.

carrying intentions
affection
tenderness
the mind of my skin
touching yours

I hold your hand
in all its forms
and meanings
and conjugations
and synonyms

but most of all
I hold your hand
and it holds mine

2006-09-06T15:35:00.000-07:00

Beginnings

Soaking up the words of Louis Khan in "Between Silence and Light" has instilled in me the ability to fall in love with the beginning of things. This was his system for finding the essence in everything.

The first school was a man sitting under a tree with another man, telling a story. The first wall was a rock protecting man from the elements and predators. The first window was a hole through this wall that man made to see outside. The wall did not like having this hole through it at first, but man made a frame around it to appease it. It worked out.

I've recently looked at my work through the filter of this philosophy. I thought about the first painting. I believe that the first painting was a mark on the ground made by a man for the purpose of talking to God . The first painting was the first prayer.

These paintings that I make, these marks that come from the movements of this body, these are my prayers of gratitude.

In honor of Louis Khan and the great wonder for beginnings, I made this:

The First Laughter on Earth

I was as surprised as you were
The word Funny hadn't been invented yet
Nothing much had been invented
Except, maybe, birth and hunger and bliss

This felt like all of that

Breath spilling out like lava
out of soft volcano mouths
Cackling pink fire
from dry wood and flames

Delicious like a yawn
except several times over
A strange method of touching
only from farther away

Making bodies tremble
shaking ribcages
until hearts open,
dead, outer skin cracking off

Piece by piece
like very dry rose petals

This is how hearts are remade
Brand spanking new

This is what it is
to laugh
Pure Yummy
Divine Power.

Afterward
Sparks
still swimming
inside us

in that moment
we understood
what it meant
to be grateful

2006-08-14T15:46:00.000-07:00

Here, Now

I am a now maker
just like you
crafting the world
as this moment
this is my new now.
Welcome.

2006-07-26T11:40:00.000-07:00

2006-07-26T11:34:00.000-07:00

Gift: Siesta 101

If I gave you the gift of eating slowly
the gift of a smooth day wrapped in thick honey
the gift of watching words fall off a dictionary
like ripe fruits from a tall tree
the gift of crawling SUV's on the 101 as
the gift of neglected moments of cloud-watching
(children know this gift well)
If I gave you the gift of rich coffee in a real cup
if I gave you the gift of very slow balloons of laughter
wrapped in blankets of siesta,

I wonder if you would take it, embrace it
and fill it with kisses
or if you would crumple it
and throw it in a blue "recyclables only" garbage bin
on your way to your car,
on your way to the atm,
on your way to a fastfood place,
as you complain about traffic
and how there is never time for anything.