tomorrow nite i’ll be giving a short talk on my work along with three other women artists at @madelifecreative in boulder, colorado, where several of my paintings of moons and planets are up in a group show. if you’re in town come on by. 6-8 pm
Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separate from
terry tempest williams
part of a series looking at the relationship between how we see women and how we treat land
As a thank you for all your support i’m offering free us shipping on all my prints until friday. for the full list of available prints click the link in my profile. use the code “sands” at checkout. 🤲🏼✨🐺🌖
wolf moon over white sands
Eight colors of sand gathered from different regions of the mojave desert, along with some leftover pink pigment from prickly pears. there are still a few spaces left in the workshop i’m teaching on how to make watercolors from sands and cacti at @thejoshuatreehouse on june 9th. for more details see www.stellamariabaer.com/workshops
Portrait of my son wyeth at 17 months old. what’s strange is that i made this portrait from a photo of him taken in march and he’s grown so much since then he doesn’t look like this anymore. the strange alchemy of awe and sorrow and joy i have over wyeth growing is like nothing i’ve experienced before. my understanding of time has been transformed since becoming a mother. time is measured by wyeth’s weight growing in my arms, his babbles becoming words, his mullet growing longer. it’s a feeling i can hardly bear but never want to stop.
Portrait of a mom working on a portrait of her baby boy
i really struggle with portraits and often wonder why i even try to make them. then i remember how nine years ago i was working for a painter and sculptor as a studio assistant. he was painting a portrait that looked so real i thought she might speak or step off the wall. when i told him the painting looked real he took an old sketchbook off the shelf and showed me his first drawings. they were terrible. “i don’t believe in talent,” he said. “i believe in never giving up.”
A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. she might have to drive into the wind. she may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground.
she may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. she may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. she may feel she will die if she doesn’t dance n***d in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.
from women who run with the wolves by clarissa pinkola estés
part of a series of photographs i’m making exploring the relationship between how we see women and how we treat land