Meet the Artist

First, lets just get this out of the way.  

What's up with Hey Scribbler?  

The short answer is that I can't read my own handwriting.  Neither can my husband.  He gets the creds for the nickname.  

There's a long answer, too, that involves super powers, grocery lists, and hours of merciless teasing at my expense, but we have more important things to talk about.  Like art.

I started painting in the fall of 2018 at age 48.  (Yep. Totally Gen X) 

Prior to being a middle aged empty nester, my art-life could be summed up with 2 experiences.  

1 - early elementary grade school art class... I had the sweetest teacher on earth.  Sincerely, I did.  I loved her.  And she told me, most sincerely, "Oh Heather... if only I could give you an A for effort."  I'm pretty sure she actually wanted to give me that A, but in all good conscience, she could not.  

2 - flash forward. 8th grade art class. 13 year old me in front of the room, and an eerily similar experience, but for all to hear, and laugh at.  Total mortification.  And that was the end of art for me.  

Until now.  

Until the time was exactly right.  

The undiscovered artist in me surfaced when I needed it most.  

I was drowning in grief, guilt, anger, depression, and all the other crappy baggage that comes with loss.

I couldn't sleep.  Couldn't think.  But also - couldn't stop thinking.  I just wanted some peace.  

I prayed for peace, rest, sleep, relief. 

It was a constant prayer of mine and it was answered at a most unlikely moment. 

Peace and relief found me at a Paint & Sip that I did NOT want to attend.

An hour of my internal suffering was completely silenced by the activity of painting.  

I went out the next day and did major retail therapy in the paints and crafts section of our local hobby store. Having no idea what to buy, I bought a little of everything!  And then I took it all home and left it sit on the floor, in the corner for an entire month.  

It was too intimidating to even think about painting something.  What? How? When? I was an idiot, I told myself. I hated art. Didn't I?  I mean, it's embarrassing, right?  You try to do something and then other people see it.  And then... well... Total Mortification! Right???

Very soon after, the day came when I realized total mortification was a better option than how I was feeling.

I picked an “easy painting” on Pinterest and tried to paint it.  I found the relief.  Mental silence.  The process of smearing paint around on a canvas blanketed the emotional ruckus in my head.

It worked!  I cried happy tears. Grateful tears. 

I no longer cared about what l’d end up with on the canvas.  I only craved the experience of it. I needed it.  

I accidentally found art therapy, paint therapy, whatever you want to call it.  I found it and I wasn't letting it go. 

Here. Now. Today - go to my Hey Scribbler Facebook page or Instagram page and see all the canvases I’ve smeared paint on! (There’s a handy link at the bottom).

It’s been quite the journey from painting my first pumpkin to sketching the portraits of these sweet faces that you see here. I have fallen in love with the process of capturing the character of our beloved and faithful pets.  I love painting, trying new styles and techniques, but I have a heart for the portrait - even when my brain and my hands are NOT cooperating with what I’m trying to do!  That’s the JOY of it!!!!  The experience.  You can see in my gallery,… and on my social media… the good, the bad, the ugly… the beauty of art and the experience of creating it.

I paint, draw, doodle, sketch, create, write,.. I do something every day.  I fell in love with art and it has completely become my world. With color mixing, with whimsical characters, large flowers, abstract cities, sunsets, birds, buildings…with sketching faces, especially animals.  I. Love. Art. 

#iarted  🎨🖌🤩

I've spent a lot of words, here, talking about me and my art experience.  But ultimately, all the credit goes to God. He gave me the brains, the eyes, the hands : ) None of this nonsense exists without Him.

He brought His good works out of my bad times. Romans 8:28 blossomed in me. His Word, tons of prayer, that‘s what showed me the way to art and art therapy.  I am simply not that good on my own.  

He blesses me as we are on this journey together. 

And my hope is that the work you see here expresses my thankful heart and glorifies Him. 

That the pieces of art bring a smile to someone’s face. 

This art is rooted in love. 

Love that is daisy-strong. 

Love that blossoms out of nowhere in the middle of life’s rocky path. 

Love that somehow stirs your heart too.

And that it may inspire you to seek out your hidden talents, or rediscover your childhood dreams.

Go buy some paints or attend a cooking class.  

Grow a garden or spend the day being a photographer.  

Rock climb.  Surf.  Write a book.  Begin a blog.

I don't know!  

You name it.  

Pray about it.  

Something new will blossom for you too! 

#godisgood

#iarted