REVIEW OF PRAYING UPSIDE DOWN

Praying Upside Down by Kelly O’Dell Stanley

Last week I finished a book and gave it away the same day.  I seldom give a book I love away, but this friend needed it more than I on this day.

I will buy another one for me and probably another two or three for others. Kelly O’Dell Stanley’s slant is showing the reader how prayer, its creative force, its intricate phases as we learn to pray, all paralleled with making art.  I was entranced because Kelly drew many correlations between the creative act and prayer.  At the end of each chapter she included a “palette of new ideas to try when praying.” 

The book would be inspiring for the new Christian as well as wonderful reinforcement to the seasoned Christian.  I have known Christ and prayed for sixty-five years, and this book kept me engaged and eager to read the author’s next life lesson she had learned from prayers and how God chose to answer them in crucial life events in her journey. 

Kelly was not pompous, authoritative, or even “ do it my way”, but instead she allowed the reader to discover with her what prayers worked for the season in which you are walking.  She leads the reader through a creative experience and gives passion and excitement to prayer. 

This book won’t disappoint you.  Instead, it will revive your prayer life and add depth to your relationship with God.  Her publisher chose one of my paintings to illustrate the last chapter.  This made me happy and the book gave me nuggets to consider the entire time I was reading it.  Love the book and the author, who made herself transparent through her hills and valleys of life.

A Praise To Our Creator

 

A Praise to our Creator 

            The sea has a life of its own.  I can hear the waves hitting the sand one block away.  Its force announces its power.  In the night, it sounds like a growling animal hidden beneath the stars and darkness. 

            Early morning red sun creates pink and golden light patterns in the gentle waves.  Now, the sounds are soft and melodious.  Early fisherman and pelicans seek the first fruits of the morning, the first whites, snappers, and red fish.  Small little shore birds dive for baby crabs and other little creatures that call the ocean, home.

The loud screaming sun is a magnet to the sea.  Warming waters call swimmers to move from the shore to the water.  Walkers venture into ankle deep waves to enhance their walk on the seashore.  The ocean becomes a playground to children, adults, and fisherman.   This magnificent body of water is an endless pool of adventure.

Evening sun sets dramatically on the horizon.  The liquid sun bounces along where sky meets sea.  The audience is ding into the sea.  As it sizzles down into the water, applauds and the blowing of conch shells used as horns can be heard all down the shoreline. 

Porpoises play.  Sharks skim.  Pelicans dive.  It is their home, their sanctuary, and their shelter.   The majestic ocean is a reflection of its Creator with unknown depths, meaningful happenings, beauty beyond comprehension,  a constant truth, and a known presence.  I am in awe of our Creator.          

A New Circus

copyrighted art by Sandra Lee Baron

 "Bring ‘em on in ma’am,” the director said as he waved his hand toward the entrance hall. 

“ This way madam,” called the helper.

“Here I will help you with that elephant sized one,” as he reached and balanced his weight against the heaviness of the painting.

I could feel my heart beating as hard as when I was a child watching a three ring circus.  I was seeing the acts assemble.  My eyes gathered the views created by the bright colors of the artists' palettes.  Paintings were leaned on walls waiting to be judged by the curator.

“This one is magnificent,” I whispered in a low voice.  I was lost on the lighted path that led me to a tree gathering, trees of every hue and color.  A master’s hand painted each leaf with flare and each tree was given honor for its own beauty.

“Ah, look at this one,” I chattered.  A small child was perched on a stone wall seeing the wonderment in a playful squirrel.  The wall was alit with sunlight that created beaconing shadows. As I lingered in front of the painting, I wondered how the artist could create such a clear emotion in the eyes of the child.

Again I heard, “Come right in, sir.  Come this way. “ The passageways were getting more crowded as the hour passed.  One young artist carried a giant canvas covered with lush roses, pink roses that asked to be picked for pleasure.

It was a parade of art.  I was at the Richmond Art Museum last week.  As I entered my art in the RAM show, I watched other artist bring in their art creations to be judged.  The excitement, color, and happenings reminded me of a circus.  These talents were not displayed under a tent, but instead housed in the restored art wing , which displayed the fine architecture of the early 1930’s.

copyrighted art by Betty Ann Fraley

On this sunny afternoon, folks were demonstrating their ability to create beauty.  On exhibit were abstract autumn scenes, representative barns and fields, impressionistic trees, and life size portraits. Everyday life was interpreted by artist from their own view, their art vantage point. Each painter hoped to be juried into the show.  But, from my view, everyone was a winner.  The artists had captured moments of life and displayed them on canvas.

As a child I had problems at the circus.  I didn’t know which act to watch.  It was the same at the museum.  Every painting had worth and wonder.  It was a splendid day spent in color, space, and balance.  Each painting was evidence of the Creator within each of us.   Whether viewing the beauty or painting the subject, the Creator allowed us a glimpse into glory.

Learning to paint

Blue Lady
When I painted this lady, I used all ultramarine blue to lay her on the canvas. I just started painting and watched her appear. My sister was visiting and giving me painting lessons. I loved how sister would guide me carefully through each layer of painting. She would watch me design and paint. She sat on the porch with me and watched me, and then she would go in the house to watch TV. Then, she would return and peek at what I was doing.

Betty Ann has painted over sixty years and produces magnificent art works. Perhaps this is why I never tried to paint. I knew I could not paint like her. She had always been the artist in our family. I was the writer and the teacher. Now, in my sixties, I am trying to be a painter. She had encouraged me for years. I just was too busy rearing children and teaching school. Retirement gave me time for the plunge into oil paint.

I was trying a new technique I had studied on this blue lady. I painted her in an impressionistic style but decided to give her eyes detail and focus. When I would get stuck, I would call to my sister. “Sister, come look. Are her eyes too far apart? Are the shadows right?" I thought she would have blue eyes and suddenly I had painted them brown. I tried to make her have long straight hair, and it turned out curly. My sister just laughed and told me that someone was guiding my hand and my artist eye.

It was reassuring to have my sister available for questions and critique. I had lost my fear of not being able to paint as well as her. I replaced it with a hunger for her knowledge. She had training and skill that I needed. She was willing to offer it and help me learn my way around a canvas. This day was such a warm memory. I love my sister dearly. She is six years my elder, but no one knows that. We are still two girls playing, laughing, and creating.

When I was five, Betty Ann would have art lessons on our front porch in Florida. I loved watching her draw the things her teacher suggested. Mrs. Hoight, her art teacher, would gently suggest and show Betty where shadows should be. She explained that painting was just using light and dark to form the desired images. Now, sixty years later, Betty was giving me a porch lesson in painting. What she had learned, she was sharing with a new artist. My sister’s instruction was filled with wisdom and laughter.

The day of the blue lady painting taught me to love my sister even more. The day brought forth a painting that seemed to pop out of the canvas with such ease. This opportunity was provided by God. I just trusted God to move in me. I know my own skills and talents are limited. I must rely on Him when I paint because I get stuck and don’t have my sister on the porch to help me. I learned that porch day that my sister wasn’t my competitor but instead my advocate. My paintings were not going to look like hers because I had one year of experience and she had sixty. I relied on God and asked for His help. Each time I approach a new canvas, I remember my porch teachings at five and sixty-five. Both brought me pleasure and learning. However, best of all, the lesson taught me art expression is a gift from God. We are made in His image. He finds pleasure when we learn to create.