Studio Journal Entry 010: The Story Behind Ascension

"When I came home after my mom's memorial, I remember telling people I still felt like I was in the clouds... circling, waiting to touch down."

At the time, I didn't fully understand what I meant.

I had spent the previous year convincing myself that I'd already grieved the loss of my mom.

Her dementia had changed so much that I believed I'd already come to terms with losing the person we once knew.

Then I went back east for her Celebration of Life, and I realized...

I hadn't even begun.

Grief has a way of revealing itself on its own timeline.

This painting found me shortly after I returned to California.

I had been wanting to paint another set of wings using my palette knife and impasto technique—not because I was trying to tell a particular story, but because I wanted to challenge myself again.

Sometimes curiosity is enough to begin.

Sometimes life quietly adds the rest.

For most of this painting, everything flowed naturally.

The challenge didn't arrive until near the end...

...when I completely ran out of impasto medium.

Instead of stopping, I improvised.

Baking soda.

Glue.

A little creativity.

And a lot of hope.

To this day, I honestly couldn't tell you which textures came from professional art supplies and which came from a DIY experiment in my studio.

I love that.

Sometimes resourcefulness leaves no visible trace.

When I stand in front of Ascension today, I feel soothed.

Not because the sadness disappeared.

Because I gave it somewhere to go.

If you look closely, you'll notice that the wings aren't painted with just one shade of gold. There are several woven throughout the piece, catching the light a little differently depending on where you're standing.

I like that.

It reminds me that healing rarely happens in just one way, either.

Looking back, I think my mom would have been proud of this painting.

Not simply because of how it turned out.

But because I did exactly what she'd always encouraged me to do.

I took something heavy...

...and made something creative with it.

She also probably would have gotten a laugh out of my homemade impasto medium.

Ascension didn't teach me something entirely new.

It reminded me of something I'd already begun to discover.

Creativity has a remarkable way of transforming emotion.

The feelings don't disappear.

They become part of something new.

Something beautiful.

Ascension reminds me that I can carry heavy feelings into the studio...

...and leave carrying something different.

If this painting could whisper one sentence, I think it would simply say,

"It's okay to feel."

Sometimes that's exactly what we need permission to do.

Until next time,

Thanks for spending a few minutes behind the easel with me.

One of my favorite things about abstract art is that no two people experience a painting the same way. If this piece reminds you of a place, a memory, or simply a feeling, then it's already begun a conversation—and I love that.

See you in the studio,

Lisa
LBW Creative Studio

——

One Last Thought Before I Clean My Brushes

"Healing doesn't always mean leaving our grief behind. Sometimes it means giving it wings, watching it rise, and realizing we don't have to carry it quite the same way anymore."