Yesterday a group of women and a few men, many of whom were unknown to each other, gathered to celebrate the life of a woman who had touched our lives in unique ways. At a moment in history when we've lost two iconic women - Dolly Parton and Gloria Steinem - I could not help but see their influence on the independent life Sheri built for herself absent of the constraints imposed on women prior to the early 1970s when she and I graduated from high school. Sheri was a strong, highly educated, creative and self-sufficient woman who lived life on her own terms while supporting others along her path.
When I wrote the following piece, this old blog was giving me troubles, so I only shared it on FaceBook. Technology glitches resolved, I'm reposting below...
We didn’t know each other in high school. Almost fifty years after graduation, we sat down together in a West Seattle restaurant for our first of many wonderful visits.
She had reached out to me on social media after the
re-release of my first book. We began communicating, getting to know each
other. Then I saw her artwork on Facebook – intricate, hand drawn mandalas,
often with what she called “a brief story.” I happened to be running a blog
series titled Minding My Muse, and I invited her to share her
creative process in a guest post.
On May 1, 2017 I shared her piece titled Finding My Inner
Artist on my website HERE.
It is a beautifully written expression of her personal artistic journey that
also offers a peek at her lovely artwork. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
She returned to the Pacific Northwest in late 2018 to be
close to family and bought a home not far from my own. We began meeting monthly
for wine and conversation. She was bright and articulate, generous and
incredibly well-read. She averaged about a dozen books a month, always had a
book in her bag, always eager to talk about those we shared, though I clearly
couldn’t keep up with her reading rate or diversity of subject matter. She also
showed interest in my own writing, always asking me how my current project was
going, reading drafts, and offering invaluable insights, support, and
encouragement.
When she wasn’t reading (or working – she refused to
retire), she was busy planning her next vacation. When I last saw her in late
June, she told me about her trip to Napa Valley and her upcoming plans to
return to Paris – her favorite place in the world. She claimed it was the only
city that inspired her to walk daily. She had tickets for August 25 returning
September 19. A trip she never made.
Sheri died on July 17, 2026, less than a month before her 72nd
birthday.
I miss her.
www.arleenwilliams.com , May
1, 2017
At the close of my most recent post in the Minding
My Muse series, a reader named Sheri Nugent posted a lovely comment,
including a wonderful book recommendation: Drawing on the Artist Within by
Betty Edwards. I bought the book and invited Sheri to write a guest blog post.
I'm sure you'll enjoy reading the story of her creative journey and taking a
peek into her artist's notebook as much as I have.
Finding
My Inner Artist
by Sheri
Nugent
At age
62, I am finally becoming the artist I have tried to be for most of my life.
Over the years I have experimented with many types of art – painting, drawing,
pastels, pencil, pen and ink. An endless exploration of art supply stores.
Nothing ever satisfied. I felt that I had two problems: no talent and nothing
interesting to say. So I gave up.
And
then, four months ago, I discovered that those weren’t my problems after
all. A friend wrote about drawing mandalas as a form of meditation on her
blog. I took the online
class that she referred to for no other purpose than to relax. It
was Inauguration Day and I needed something to do with my hands while
obsessively watching cable news. I learned that drawing mandalas has been a
meditative practice in many cultures over thousands of years. It does not
require any particular talent for drawing. The technique is formulaic – and
once you learn the basics, you simply start in the center and make it up as you
go. A more disciplined form of doodling, really.
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I
found it to be astonishingly calming. My first mandala took me about four
hours to finish. During those four hours I felt like I was in a cozy,
creative bubble where time and external noises just stopped. I posted Mandala
#1 on Facebook with a brief story – an encouragement to my friends to try it
as a means of relaxing. |
|
(Mandala
#1) In order to calm myself as I watch and listen to the escalating madness
we are experiencing, I am trying something new rather than shredding my
cuticles. I made this tonight. It's a mandala, and it's meant to be soothing
and meditative. It was a lovely 3 hours with MSNBC in the background. I feel
significantly better, calmer. This works for me. |
The
reason this technique worked for me was that it demanded that my inner
critic just shut up for once. The point of drawing the mandala
was not the product – it was the process. It didn’t matter if it was good or
not. The only reason to do it was the process of creating and relaxing in the
moment without fixating about the outcome. And to prove that to myself, to
reinforce that intention, I posted the mandalas on Facebook.
By the
time I finished Mandala #8, I began to notice that I usually liked the
finished product. With practice, I was improving. And that was encouraging. The
process of doing each mandala opened up my creative eye more and more. Because
I took judgment out of the equation, I learned how to work around “mistakes”
and transform them into “design opportunities.” The more I didn’t allow the
critic to stop me from finishing a piece, the braver I got to try new
things. If the outcome doesn’t matter, why not keep going?
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|
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(Mandala
#8) Snow Day in Seattle |
On my
tenth mandala, I had a new idea. I added a drawing of a tree inside the
structure of the mandala circle. It took much longer to draw but I just
followed the idea to wherever it took me. It’s not a perfectly drawn tree.
Before this experiment in mandalas, if I would have set out to draw a tree, I
would’ve decided long before it was finished that it was not good, thrown it
out, and quit drawing.
|
|
|
(Mandala
#10) I had an idea - what if the knot in a tree was the center
circle in a mandala? That idea grew into this. Mandalas literally do grow.
Starting in the center and growing into whatever it decides to be. Every time
- and especially true on this one - from about 20% in the process through
maybe 60%, I am quite certain that I've ruined it. Nevertheless, I persist,
and the end result is always indeed worth finishing. Not ruined after all.
This is such a rewarding art form. And a great life practice of not giving
up. I encourage everyone to give it a try. |
By
Mandala #18, I was fully committed to incorporating drawn objects in the
mandalas. The early pattern mandalas were great for starting out. I needed
structure and techniques to guide me. But as I followed the muse, mandala after
mandala, I felt like I was creating something new. They were much more personal
pieces – pictures and stories that meant something to me. This was no longer a
traditional mandala. Maybe it’s not even a mandala anymore. It doesn’t matter.
My art. My rules.
|
|
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(Mandala
#18) Skagit Valley Tulip Festival |
I
continued to share them on Facebook because my friends were so generous with
their comments and the pieces seemed to be enjoyed. In my mind, in the face of
so much tension in the world, I was putting something positive out there. Good
or bad – it’s my creative expression of positivity and that’s all that
mattered.
Along
the way, I learned a lot about which tools I’m most comfortable with. I’ve
experimented with types of paper, markers, pens – learning what works and what
doesn’t give me the look I am going for. Nothing wasted, nothing ruined. All
part of the learning process. I also learned that the circle structure is the
foundation for me. I’ve noticed that I naturally gravitate toward circles so it
makes sense that I was drawn to this art form. It now takes me about 16 hours
to finish a piece – which is nice. I’m learning patience and attention to
detail.
Four
months later, I am working on Mandala #45. Now, I have settled on a structure
that works for me – I draw my personal pictures in the form of a mandala and
write a paragraph or two to accompany it as a complete piece.
Sometimes
I draw a story – an idea that I’ve seen and want to interpret. Sometimes I draw
a memory. I get ideas from friends, from something I’ve read, or something I’ve
seen on a walk.
The
transformation I’ve experienced personally is far beyond learning to “draw
better.” By unlocking that creativity that I think is inside all of us, I
notice my surroundings more. I’m more observant, more present (as opposed to
lost in my own head), more confident, more willing to risk failing and try
anyway – and, yes – much more relaxed. I am excited to see where I’ll be after
the 10,000 hours of practice it takes to achieve so-called mastery. I’ve done
the math – it will take me 6.86 years.
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|
|
(Mandala
#43) A couple of times per year I get very lucky. A swarm of bees move
onto one of my trees. It happens incredibly fast - nothing happening at all
and then like a flash - a huge swarm of bees about the size of a basketball
in my tree. I was terrified the first time it happened, but I've learned to
appreciate them, to love them. They are completely harmless and are just
passing through for a couple of days while the scouts search for their next
home. I watch them closely. I'm fascinated by them. Then they are gone. Every
year I watch carefully so I can see how they depart. I miss it every time.
For some reason, bees make me feel hopeful. Nature doing its job. What is
more beautiful than that? |
I’ve learned that self-imposed barriers – like believing I
have no talent and nothing interesting to say – are just nonsense. We all have
talent and we all have something interesting to say. I wish all of my friends
and loved ones would share whatever their creativity is with
me. I certainly love sharing mine with them. We are all artists, aren’t we?
