Birds of the Air

It was my New Year's resolution to go for a walk every morning. I liked the idea that in the dead of winter in Michigan, I would get my body moving and breathing fresh air. And like all good New Year’s resolutions, this lasted about 3 weeks. Thankfully, three weeks was plenty of time to drum up some inspiration that has guided me through the spring. It was on those walks that I would hear the birds and think about how cold they must be. Right? They must be freezing. When I got home and googled “why don’t birds freeze,” I learned that in addition to storing extra fat, they trap pockets of air around their bodies and the oil from their feathers keeps them dry/waterproof. Incredible. 

There is a verse in Matthew, when Jesus is right at the heart of his Sermon on the Mount, when he says to his audience “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” When I thought of this verse as I was on my walks, listening to the birds, my first thought was -  those lucky birds and their little bird brains. They don’t even have the capacity for worry, how nice that would be! I would love to just not worry. But my second thought, went back to Jesus’ rhetorical question - Are you not much more valuable than they? Well. Do I have all I need for this day - am I clothed, fed, sheltered and provided for? Yes, I am. And it struck me that more than comparing us to birds and their large capacity for unconcern about their wellbeing, Jesus was reminding his audience to remember what they have been given on this day. To be grateful for the way their own needs have been, and will be, provided for again and again. For what better antidote for anxiety is there than gratitude? 

The Birds of the Air series is about this wisdom. Each painting is a visual reminder of these beautiful little creatures who sing in the middle of winter, while pockets of air keep them warm. And they have all they need. Visually, I included two birds in each painting as the reminder that we are never alone. The birds are layered among abstracted florals (mostly tulips, because, Holland). And these flowers point to the verse in Matthew that directly follows what Jesus says about the birds - “See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.” He reminds us of the incredible beauty of flowers. Flowers that will surely bloom each spring whether we do anything or not. 

I like the term “feathered friends” as it relates to birds, as the ones in this series have become like friends to me. They are all birds I have witnessed or heard outside of my home this season. There is a reason that birds have held spiritual and personal meaning for people since, well, forever. My visual take on this is another layer to the rich story that has been, and will continue to be told about our feathered friends. A story that gives us hope that we too will be provided for with all that we need.

About The Repetition Collection

When we began the foster care licensing process, I started reading as much as I could about childhood trauma, foster care/adoption, and child development. For me, the most powerful takeaway was that the brain is moldable and we have the power to rewire brain connections throughout our whole life. As we, slowly, day by day, see what safe feels like and learn what love is, our brains can rewire to accept this new truth.* As a foster/adoptive mom, this was so incredibly encouraging to me. It gave me something practical to do for my kids. I can show up, day after day, as a safe person who loves them. There doesn’t need to be some dramatic healing moment, but rather, through the repetitions and rhythms of each day, we can slowly work towards healing.  In each “it’s okay,” “I’m here,” “I’m sorry,” and “I love you.” In  kisses good night, and dinners around the table.  These small things over and over again make up a truth that is felt deep in our bones - I am safe. I am loved. 

The lake has functioned this way for me in my own seasons of hard. Day by day, I trust that if I walk down there, I will see wave after wave roll in. The sand will be under my feet and the sky will be above my head. Each day looks a little different, but the things that matter are there and I can count on them. It’s connecting to these core repetitions in nature -  the rhythms of the shore - that break me out of whatever anxious loop or fear is running in my head. There will be a new day. There will be another wave, another sunset, and the clouds will move on. For me, this collection of paintings is a tangible reflection of the healing power of nature's repetitions. In each repeated brush stroke and shape, it is a reminder of what our God says about creation. It is good. It is good. It is good. And day after day, wave after wave, I know that it is true.

*(The Whole-Brained Child, Daniel J. Siegel & Tina Payne Bryson).

Beach Pines

My husband, Jake, and I had this book, “The Life & Love of Trees” by Lewis Blackwell, as the guest book at our wedding. We chose it partly because we really liked the book and needed a good reason to pay fifty dollars for it, but mostly, it was because I love trees. My love of trees, specifically of observing and painting them, began before my love of the lake. I grew up across the street from the woods and would spend hours wandering, playing and dreaming among the trees. I first talked to Jake underneath a big oak tree outside of Dimnent Chapel. We sat there in the shade and he showed me the drawings from his art class. I later painted that tree and the chapel (which, I believe, is still hanging somewhere in the Admission’s Office at Hope). The work in my senior art show at Hope was based on trees, specifically tree bark, which I painted and carved into wood. All this to say - my love of trees is not new, but...enduring. 

The Beach Pines series is a celebration of the pine, both the one we bring in our homes, decorate, gather around, and place gifts beneath - and the living pine- the one that provides a home for creatures, stabilizes the dune beneath it, and watches every sunset. In each painting, the focus is on the pine and the lake is its companion. When you visit Lake Michigan, chances are, it’s the lake that holds your attention, not the trees standing behind you. I wanted to give the pine its moment, painted with purpose in rich color and a strong contrast to the lake and sky behind it. It is the reminder of fortitude, life, and hope all season long. 

There is a verse in the first chapter of Psalms describing a blessed person, “That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers.” That is the kind of fortitude & flourishing that I am reminded of with the beach pines - no matter the heat or storm, still they stand.

The Inspiration Behind the Sunset Series

Have you ever tried to capture a sunset on camera? Never great. Like concert videos, you really have to be there to appreciate it. But I love that about sunsets too! They are so big and fleeting that you can’t save it for later, if you want to experience the fullness of it, you need to be there. Looking and waiting and appreciating that moment.

In the evening, with five young kids, it’s the nightly routine of jammies, teeth, water, stories, Amazing Grace, prayers, and smooches goodnight. But on the best of nights, after all of that, when I see those golden rays, I grab our dog Rosie, and head down by myself to catch the sunset. For me, there’s a certain holiness in looking out over the water and seeing nothing made by man as far as the eye can see. It feels both personal and so far beyond me.

With this series of work, I wanted to make pretty paintings, yes, but I also wanted to capture the personal nature of each sunset. The changes in the sky, on the sand, and off the water that shift with each minute that goes by. They are like records of the best parts of the day, an exhale, a collection of memories from the summer. For me, each painting holds a memory of the nights we let the kids stay up past bedtime to run the beach with friends, the night of our neighborhood concert, the first and last days of summer, girls night with Topo Chicos and beach popcorn, book club, birthday swims, and Friday night pizza night. They are all little gifts of color and light and memories of the very best parts of summer. And like a sunset, I’m so happy to have someone to share them with.

-Bry

It’s All Right Here

There is so much to our adoptive children’s story that I just need the answers to. Why did it happen? Why them? why, why, why. Friends, mentors, and therapists have noticed my obsession with knowing why and have asked me why in return. Why do you need to know? Why do you need to have all the answers? And all I can come up with is… so I know it won’t happen again. So I can protect them. If I know why, then surely I can fix things and when they are older, they won’t have to confront these questions with as much pain as I feel now. 

- - -

The inspiration for this work came not from the lake, but from the ocean. From a time when I felt like I had to escape everything going on and drive to somewhere…not here. Just Get Me Away. Is how I felt. It was a season where I was left devastated with more “whys” than I wanted to deal with. It was a time when all the grief I carried for the huge loss my children have experienced was brought to the surface. 

And so when I look at this painting, my eyes fill, and I feel the loss from that time all over again. But as I keep looking, I see the rays of sun shining on the water. I remember the repetition of the waves, rolling in one after another, all day. And I am reminded of what I tell my children often. That there is a balm for so many ills of the heart- for jealousy, despair, hopelessness, resignation - and that is gratitude. Gratitude that sees those “whys” and holds them up in its arms. Tells you to lift up your head and look out, pointing to the horizon as you shift your gaze upward. See the light coming through the clouds? See the shapes the water makes in the sand? How lovely and mighty are the waves? There is a whole world in that ocean! How amazing is that? And then, you realize that your “why?” is no longer the loudest voice in the room. It is much quieter now, lulled by the reminder of everything that is good, everything there is to be thankful for, and everything that is already right here.

This painting is a reminder that the along with the whys we carry, is a whole lot of good, and we can carry that too. It’s all right here.

This Much

One year ago today, our three kids were adopted. And so, I wanted to write something here for me and to share with you. Because although there are parts of our story that are deeply personal, there are also many beautiful things we have experienced and learned. Things I don’t think we were meant to keep just to ourselves. Who knew I could feel so many deep emotions- of love, of heartache, and strength? Things I would have never known had we not said yes. 

When our kids moved into our home, they were in foster care with us for six months before the adoption could be finalized. Those first months in the fall of 2020, with five kids ages 3-5, were so very hard. It pushed us all to the limits of everything. And so when autumn rolled around again this year, I felt many of the same fears rise to the surface. I wanted so badly to erase the huge pain our kids had experienced in the past. How will they ever be able to fully trust me? How do I approach this behavior? Is this something that will last forever? Will their precious souls ever know peace? I wished I could make it all better. 

And so, one day in November, I dropped the boys off at preschool and came home. I curled up under a blanket and began crying out and praying, feeling so desperate for answers. I just wanted to know that they were going to be okay. I finished spilling out all of my fears and sat in that exhausted calm you feel after a good cry. I looked out the window at the gray sky and felt a gentle nudge to go outside. I grabbed my blanket, went out, and sat in the adirondack chair on our back deck. After a few minutes, the thick cover of clouds that covered the sky parted for the briefest moment, and the brilliant autumn sun shone through. The leaves on the trees and on the dune were golden with light. And then, I felt an assurance from God that moved through to my toes, “I would move heaven and earth for you. I love you that much.” 

The peace that followed was solid. It wasn’t a temporary moment of calm like I had experienced before, on good days and good moments. It was a solid rock. A promise firm and unmoving. The full assurance of a love that has been here before me and will be here after me. A reminder that the one who would move heaven and earth for me, would surely do the same for my children, and my children’s children. 

I knew right away that I wanted to paint this hill and this moment, so I could remember that day. A day when a truth that I have heard many times, finally sunk into my bones. And I wanted to share it. In case you needed to hear it too.

Wild Lake Series

The Wild Lake Series has slowly taken shape in the free spaces of summer. Between beach days, trips up north, and t-ball games, I used my spare moments to work freely on these pieces. The brushstrokes are fast and varied. The colors are vibrant and confident. There is a sense of movement in every work. The essence of the series is to capture the lakeshore from the heart of a child. Inspired by my children running wild at the lake, I wanted each piece to show the sense of being alive and right here, right now. Ready to explore and soak in the warm light on the sand and the sweet blue lake.

The source of inspiration for this series is a local county park in Northern Michigan named Antrim Creek Natural Area. The first time we visited, it was a foggy November day and even then, I was captivated by the shoreline. We spent the whole time looking for and skipping rocks. When we visited again in late spring, I found myself getting lost in the woods documenting and savoring it all. It made me feel like a child and reminded me how beautiful the lakeshore is naturally, if we allow it to just be.

I really love this series and I find myself more inspired with each new work I begin. Looking forward to sharing all of them with you at the end of September. Thanks so much for being here.

The Colors of the Sun Series

This series challenged and grew me in new ways and I fell in love with each piece as I painted. I visualized a feeling for each work and kept that in me as I created them. As a whole, this series focuses on the interaction of the sun and water and all of the color that exists within them. One of my favorite things about the lake is how different the colors are on the water and shore- day to day and hour to hour. It is always changing, but always constant. And always beautiful.

The larger abstract wave paintings explored the colors within each wave. I felt alive and free as I made them, like I often feel at the lake. The smaller waterscape works explore the connection of colors that move between the water, sun, and shore. I wanted these works to remind you of a specific moment at the lake. They are some of my favorite yet.

It’s an honor to share my work with you. Thank you so much for being here.

This Summer, 2021

With all five kids home for the summer, days are wild and flying by fast. I have resumed working on commissions and I am enjoying the process of taking an idea or image and making it into something tangible and lasting.

The next body of work I am working on is based off an untamed and beautiful area in northern Michigan near my parent’s cottage. It was a cloudy November day the first time we visited, and it still took my breath away. I love the texture of the trees and plants against the backdrop of the big blue sky, shining water and white sand. It is my hope for these works that, although they are from a specific place, that they remind you of many of the wild and untouched places in Michigan. That they call up the feeling of being a child, exploring and taking in each detail, in awe of it all.

I can’t wait to dive in and share progress as I work through it this summer and early fall. Squeezing in what time I can between pb&js, summer reading, sand castles, bike rides, and enjoying time with our family.

Thanks for being here.