The Painter's Point

“ Looking Back” (9x12, Acrylic on Canvas) by Jennifer Deutsch

I stood firmly on the top of his feet, without crushing him. I was learning to dance.

I do so much driving, during the week days. I DRIVE and then drive some more! It’s my lengthy commute to my present job, and it happens to be a beautiful trek. I don’t mind. It gives me time to view varied natural scenery, including; sprawling vineyards, deep blue lakes, tree lined hills, valley oaks and evergreens. On the way home, at dusk, during the golden hour, that’s the time my brain gets super creative and thoughtful. Memories can “live” stream through my cerebral cortex.

There are snippets of an event, that keeps coming to mind lately. Looking way back into my childhhood. My memories become fluid, while I’m driving home from work. In the near dark, I see the silhouettes of large forest like trees, barely visibly, taking on a midnight blue hue. There is the smell of damp volcanic earth that comes through the drivers side window. This sparks a story.

I was under 8 yrs old. My parents had driven us to a remote location, it was in the woods. I remember the smell of pine needles, flowering vines and lush ferns, as the setting sun was casting brilliant shafts of ombre orange light pushing through the foliage. We, mom, dad and myself, dressed up for the night. This was going to be a fancy dinner. We entered an elegant but humble establishment, with live music. I had a perfectly cooked, delicious steak. I was quite the carnivore! I was shy in this simple but glamorous setting. It was a classy place. I drank a Shirley Temple with a cherry plopped in the glass. I might of been the only child there.

After dinner, my dad asked me to dance. I didn’t know how to dance to live jazzy music. I had danced in front of my bedroom mirror to “The Monkeys”, but not to fancy old people tunes! That was my thinking.

My father told me to stand squarely on the top of his feet. I did immediately and felt secure. He lead the way step-by-step, awkwardly I’m sure, but I was dancing! I felt like a princess dancing at the ball. I had my big strong dad to hold me up, that was my little girl perception. For that moment, I didn’t have a worry in the world. When the music stopped there was applause, we were a hit.

Tying all this into my art above, it’s obviously an old window. A window into the past (pun intended), it’s historical. In fact, this was part of an old school house in Kelseyville, found in the county where I now live. There is a story going on here. You can see the dark reflection of sprawling tree branches in the crusty window. You can spy a yellow image of light projected on the far wall as you peek into the interior. What were the stories of the children that went to school here 100 years ago? In portraying the exterior, I rendered a quasi colorful interpretation of the chipped paint and cracks in the wood frame and siding.

You the viewer, can conjure up your own interpretation. I think I left room for that. My intention was to paint something simple, making it more significant. A snap shot in time. Perhaps a relatively small subject matter can be something thought provoking and lovely.

As I’ve gone through decades of life since that first dance on my earthly father’s feet, it's possible to attain that same confidence, through my faith. Although there are plenty of days where I stumble and fall. There are also times (should be ALL the time) that I choose to be dancing on my Heavenly Father’s feet, letting Him lead me. It makes me feel like I don’t have a care in the world.

Looking back while still looking ahead,

"Rosey Roses Arise"

Acrylic on canvas, by Jennifer Deutsch.

I'm thinking about;

A dusty abandoned train track, where a lone metal, wind worn, corrugated building still stands as a passenger shelter. The only out-building left of a once prosperous, bustling train station.

Now the orange rust patina on the corrugated metal, show its character and age. At one time people depended on this shack as their providential seating while waiting for the train.

Its historical: hobos, farmers, ladies and gents, moms and young ones, all hopped on the train to get somewhere. Maybe somewhere urgent, an important meet up; of young lovers, families reunited, business trips, sightseeing couples.

Not sure why I'm in such a nostalgic mood, I'm just thinking of the stretched out farm lands of Northern California. Where the long central valley is considered the farthest reaches of the "Wild West".

The painting above is a Northern Californian patch of purposefully planted roses. There is no theme or deep meaning here. I enjoyed painting the pattern and colors. It feels nostalgic only because roses are timeless. They can represent love, care and unity. (Especially if a husband brings his wife a dozen red roses!).

I'm digressing.

Enjoy this painting at face value; with its intricate leaves interlocking, along with delicate tufts of grass in the midst of baby fresh rosebuds. The vibrant light coming through the foliage add drama. The dimension of each flower is painted loosely, using multiple layers of brightly mixed colors.

Those hyped colors, tones and hues bring great life to something that is pedestrian. I'm not going to apologize for this blog if my ideas don't completely tie together. Because art and life can overlap, imaginations run wild, not always tidy.

Hope you the viewer can appreciate these rosey roses!

“The End”, by Jennifer Deutsch

To all you faithful friends, family and art followers,

I appreciate your sticking with me; my heavily colored pigmented canvases, along with my writing hack attempts at this blog. I thank you!

I had high hopes of writing, here, some profound and deep revelations. My own personal revelation, that is, and then applying it to my life. Not now, not today. Those thoughts will have to wait. Too much going on in my life, I’m pretty much at my emotional “end of rope” stage. I did want to share my newest painting though, titled “The End”.

So, although this is another Calistoga abandoned outbuilding, it is not another normal viewpoint. I have taken the corrugated sides and put crazy pastel hued colors to make up the building's weathered facade. I wanted to elevate this building, showing off its character and its uniqueness, by how I worked out the perspective. Giving it drama. How I worked out the surrounding lavender shadowed landscape. The brilliant orange accented trees. The hyper highlights of dabbled sun. The visual highs and lows of the setting, portraying life into the entire scene.

This exquisite structure stands alone in it’s yellow-orange field, isolated. It is near its end! I think I’ve mentioned before, the city of Calistoga is in the process of gentrification; new resort buildings are taking the place of these humble characters. The abandoned structures will be torn down.

An old proverb states, “All good things must come to an end”. I can’t say that I believe that wholeheartedly/ultimately, but for now, this blog has also ended!

Your artist friend,

“Dillon Beach Exposed”, acrylic on canvas, 8x10.

By Jennifer Deutsch

I'm going to try to be short winded and honest here; in other words, just the facts ma’am...

A day in the life:

Spending time in a skilled nursing facility has it's “laugh out loud” moments. If any of you have read my blogs in the last four years, you know our situation — my husband, due to a tramatic brain injury, lives in a skilled nursing facility.

I was sitting by my husband‘s bed this week, helping him, Brian, with his dinner. It was one of those busy nights where everyone was eating “in” because the dining hall was closed. One of the male residents was having his dinner, sitting in a wheelchair, outside of his room. He was parked in the well lit hallway, with his hospital tray before him. An ambulatory male resident walks by and I hear “...um, hey, that is my shirt.”

The resident who was humbly sitting and eating had spoken this in a very dead pan, low, monotone voice. I decided to glance out the door to see what was happening. There was a semi-naked man wearing a shirt, no pants. Walking casually down the hallway, unaware, thinking this was completely normal evening attire.

Again, the gentleman sitting in his wheelchair repeated, “Hey, he’s wearing my shirt!”

This time it was expressed with a bit of vim and vigor, he was hoping one of the employees would do something. To be fair, the resident walking up and down the hallway was also wearing what is politely known as “briefs” in the industry, a.k.a. adult diapers. Oh, and the borrowed shirt. The employees did eventually re-direct the wandering shirt guy. I had to laugh audibly, because comedy relief is a must in this situation!

Being with Brian, my husband of 37 years, and seeing him in his present ultra impared, declining condition, is one of the hardest things I’m ever going to have to do in my entire life. I’m convinced! I’m sad to report it’s getting harder for both he and I. My faith keeps me/us going. There is always the hope of heaven (these momentary light affliction’s are nothing compared to future glories!).

This newest painting above, “Dillon Beach Exposed” is just pure fun! Brian and I lived in Dillon Beach for over five years, with two of our three girls, decades ago. This work was painted from a photograph that one of my friends took, and he has recently commissioned me to paint. I know the spot, and I have a feeling for the area.

I brushed the bright horizon with a tint of yellow, to highlight and tie in the sky framed by the snarled cypress tree. The vibrant bowing branches and foliage move the eye, and accentuate the surf, with the lovely sandy beach below. The fence posts in the foreground, head out to the right of the canvas, which evokes a rustic feeling. It’s a place one might want to escape to, including myself! It is a paradise where nature speaks to the soul, and many would call it “God’s Country”. I hope you, the viewer, enjoy this bright and joyful little piece.

Here’s to quirky happenings in daily life — unfiltered comedy. And here’s to a temporary escape to God’s nature exposed on earth, and His glory someday exposed in heaven.

Keeping things real,

“Color Surge” – By Jennifer Deutsch

8x10, Acrylic on Canvas

“Grace is the mother and nurse of holiness, and not the apologist of sin.”  Charles Haddon Spurgeon

As believers, I think we can all relate, being weak and vulnerable. Especially under long trials: suffering, tragic life events, sickness of body, significant losses–whatever is God’s task for you, that has been hard. Possibly, on top of that, you are trying to fight the temptations/sin in your life, trying to mortify the flesh, in one’s own might and reasoning. Never reason with your sin or your flesh, for that matter. “Kill sin, before it kills you”. Never, never, lean on God’s grace as an excuse to step off the path.  Stay the course, stay on mission – I’m preaching to myself now. 

Romans 8:12-13 

Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.

Putting on my protective spiritual armor, metaphorically speaking, in my OWN strength, is futile, unnecessary, and frankly, dangerous! We have the power of the Holy Spirit with-in us already. When I try to supersede Him with my own methods of fighting temptations, the chink in my armor turns into excuses, rationale, and blame shifting as I am losing ground! 

“Follow your heart”, the world’s mantra comes to mind. It’s an example of following after one’s own strength, your own wisdom. That’s bad advice: I can TRUST my heart as far as I can THROW it; which would require me to remove it before I could toss it anywhere, where-in I would be dead! It’s an impossible organ to realistically trust. 

Jeremiah 17:9

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?

My solution is easy, and not overkill, if I would only set my heart on Jesus to undergird me. HE will give me the strength, power, and protection I yearn for. The Lord enables me for the daily battle I call my life! When I do try to cleverly drum up my own spirituality, it is like putting sunscreen on to take a walk outside, after dark. It is a useless gesture, not effective and impotent!

Proverbs 3:5-7

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil.

Psalm 55:22

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.”

My newest finished piece above titled “Color Surge”, is just that. This painting is the last in a series of exploding color-scapes that vibrate the retina, and hopefully please the eye. This flower canvas is about pattern, light and dark, crazy hues – it is an all around superficial subject. Nothing deep here. It is eye candy.  Although still artful, and has a purpose (and one might want this on their wall at home!). Similarly, my fleshly leanings, trying to run my life how I see best, what I think I deserve; those things are only eye candy–jewelry that my mind adorns. The real substance is found in the Creator. The one who created these flowers, that I paint in the first place. Take that in: HE made, designed, created something out of nothing, beautiful flowers – functional trimmings of nature!

How much more, then should I trust HIM, as one of His children, with my life. My path, no matter how long He has me walking in the shadows, is where I should be. Doesn’t HE know whats best for me?! Keep me Lord in your loving arms, I pray.

“If my life is surrendered to God, all is well. Let me not grab it back, as though it were in peril in His hand but would be safer in mine!”

Elizabeth Elliot

Side note: This blog is personal, I won’t be posting this on social media. I am sharing, with friends, my real spiritual struggles here. Lately, I have been experiencing a long patch of grief, as mourning my losses comes and goes. My situation has become increasingly harder, as Brian is starting to forget who I am. Some days are better than others. I must press IN, more and more, leaning on Christ. By God’s grace I cling to HIM, and HE can make me holy. He will hold me fast.

Bye for now,

“What’s Inside” 

12×12 Acrylic on canvas

By Jennifer Deutsch

It’s different than you think. The residents that live in skilled nursing facilities, are there for a reason. For reasons that might not meet the eye at first glance.

I have learned over the years to respect the residents, at skilled nursing, where Brian lives. There is the segment of the population, that are there for rehab. They come, out of the hospital perhaps, have their assigned bed/space, needing therapies to help them transition back home. They are the temps in a world of the “regulars”. Brian, my injured husband, is one of those. A regular, in an unusual circumstance. He needs the care, and is greatly impaired by his brain injury. He acts and looks injured – for life. Many of the residents, the life timers, look put together, normal. It is what’s inside that tells all. They could be mentally, emotionally impaired, they live in a facility for a reason! Some are more “off” than others. I have gotten to know these people, sometimes at a distance.

A case in point, Mrs. Smith, her named changed to protect the innocent. I always say hello to Mrs. Smith, and she is generally congenial, always very matter of fact. There was this one day, she met me with  “sinister” frowning eyebrows. I decided to keep my distance, and give her a wide berth. 

Backstory: Ever since Brian’s car accident, and the long tragedy that followed, I made a choice. I would dress as polished as possible, everyday, and just show up. Over the years, I had to meet brain surgeons, ICU doctors and nurses, specialists, therapists, more doctors and nurses, social workers, bankers, hospital personal, administrators, lawyers, court room judges, oral surgeons and the like. My goal was to look professional enough, to be presentable. I needed to deal with the professional community on Brian’s behalf, as his advocate.

So back to Mrs. Smith; I was waiting in the sun drenched hallway next to Brian’s room, as the CNAs were putting him in bed (takes two people to transfer him). I’m dressed in my usual “professional” casual wear. Mrs. Smith rolls by in her wheelchair, slowly self propelling down the hall. She looks at me with a bitterly determined face and says dryly:

“You look like a professional…sex worker.”

Ok! I was not expecting that. Not the “professional” look I was going for. I had her repeat what she said, basically could not believe my ears. Yup, that was it, verbatim. I had to laugh, and immediately told everyone at the nurses station, after Mrs. Smith wheeled by out of hearing distance. We cracked up for days over that. I’m hoping it was extra funny/ironic because that is not how I dress! So, there you have it, what was in the inside of Mrs. Smith was demented, perplexing, surprising.

My painting, “What’s Inside”, is my new favorite, for it’s simple charm and docile subject matter. The bright turquoise mailbox is inviting, it’s quaint. Do people receive mail here, what’s inside, long lost letters, or boring utility bills?!? The violet-blue morning glories with climbing vines, overwhelm the picket fence and all the space around the box. The late morning light plays with-in the endless shades of greenery. I wonder if in this timid/humble scenario, if there is something more sinister lurking. Something off; such as reaching into the mailbox and there is a scorpion, black widow, or worse – a mouse jumps out! You the viewer are welcome to your own imaginings. One never knows what’s inside. It could be surprising. 

By the way I will still be dressing for success–

“At Home” Acrylic on canvas, 8x10 By Jennifer Deutsch

Today was a good day. I had been sick and unable to visit my husband for over a week. This is an unfiltered excerpt of our time together:

As I walked into the warm dining hall for lunch, I saw Brian’s peppered colored hair, a messy bed head, barely poking out from the back of his wheelchair. I approached with enthusiasm. Having a severe brain injury, I never know if he’s going to be an extrovert or an introvert, depending on how tired he is.

“Hi Honey, it’s Jennifer!”, was my entrance.

“Jennifer!?! Jennifer who?” (You must remember Brian is mostly blind!)

“Jennifer your wife!”, still enthusiastic.

“Oh Jennifer, my wife!! Hi honey, you have to help me.”, he happily cried with eyes wide open, trying to make out my face. “Yes, of course I’m going to help you, I’m here to help you always. What do you need?”

He proceeded to tell me that he had magnets on his arm and wanted me to take them off, also there was a bird on his hand. These might seem funny, a strange request. Because of the neurological damage on the left side, he disassociates that arm and hand as his own body part – it’s always something foreign. So, we go into the usual routine; me taking off the “magnets” and releasing the bird (sometimes it’s a rat!). He’s satisfied for the moment, now wanting to hold my hand. Something I always love when he reaches for me. As we’re gripping each other’s hands, his nails are digging into my palm as they are longer than my already long-ish nails. One thing about his hands, Brian is very reluctant for anybody to mess with them, especially to cut his nails! But, we were content with our tightly gripped, nail stabbing, somewhat ticklish hand hold. Then he proceeds to tell me…“Honey, I’m all messed up, I’m crazy.”

“No you’re not crazy Brian, you’re injured honey.”

“Well, I think I’m drunk, or I’m high, because I feel messed up, and I’m blind”!

I try to give a calm answer, and acknowledge that his sight is impaired from an injury, and then confirm he’s not crazy, not drunk. I made sure he wasn’t suffering pain. Although it might not seem like it, this awareness is positive. Brian is coming to grips that he is not the same, possibly gaining in cognition. It’s hard to say. Again, these are bonus days when I can have conversations with him as he creatively expresses himself. At the very least it is entertaining. When saying that he was “high”, I heard loud chuckles from the staff. They love him though, it’s not mockery. One has to understand, on his introverted/brain tired days, he barely says a word, mostly just nods his head in acknowledgment. So everyone enjoys a mentally active Brian day!

Our next round of conversation was to refresh his memory. For example; our oldest daughter is pregnant and going to have our second grandson. His reaction is always the same. It starts with; he is surprised, says it’s cool, then he can’t believe it! As if it’s the first time he has heard this news. It’s probably at least the 200th time.

Then he asked me if he could go home. This is not something he normally asks, so it’s a bit heartbreaking. As he’s telling me this, I’m asking if he wants to lay down…napping in his bed at the facility can mean “home.” He seemed satisfied with that solution, as long as I stayed with him.

This “going home” conversation, while sitting in the golden, lazy afternoon, sunlit hallway, had started a small firestorm. Several of the residents, now THEY are asking to go home! Of course, most of them wouldn’t know if they were home or not. One dear gal with dementia, spoke out; she was going to her house, getting on the bus in a few minutes. I hear another residence yell from his room…“good luck with that!”

That made me think, I yearn to go home. This earth is not my home, I have Heaven to look forward to. I hope beyond hope, that Brian is comforted thinking the same, knowing the surety of heaven. It helps to keep my mind stayed on this reality as a believer; I’m a pilgrim on this earth, my life is short, it is but a vapor. I’m passing through life’s trials, passing through tragedy mixed with joy. I’m confident there something much better awaiting for eternity!

Finally, getting to my painting above; it represents a small piece of home to me. The porcelain, bright cyan blue, cylinder shaped, coffee press, with the accompanying matching cup, is a simple topic. One I relish. I enjoy the shapes of the curving handles, the negative spaces between the objects, along with the complimentary colors. The orange and yellow ombre backdrop are artistically minimal. It would please me, that you the viewer, could be just as comfortable with this artwork...at home with it.

I left Brian this afternoon after saying a prayer by his bedside. Asking The Lord to give him perfect peace. He closed his eyes, said amen. Going home was never mentioned after that. I told him I’d be back soon. I sure will; he is my home, my husband, my Brian–married for 36 years.

It was a really good day.

“Rough Draft” (9x12, acrylic on canvas) By Jennifer Deutsch

It’s not just an inkling, you’ve seen this painting before. Well almost…

This is a brand new piece. “Rough Draft” is similar to a previous painting I did for my pastor and his wife as an anniversary present, not too long ago. Another friend of mine, living in Chicago, loved it so much she has commissioned me to paint the same piece.

This work, above, is a type of rough draft, called a study. I like to paint studies before I have to do a larger painting, working out the kinks; including composition errors, color schemes, contrasts and brushstrokes, among other things. It helps tremendously. I’ve been known to sell these studies, standing as finished work on their own. Which is a bonus!

I try to study aspects of my life too. I need the practice. Practicing patience, for example, is a life skill that I’m no where near having under wraps. Possibly not evident to others on the outside, but definitely raging within, is my impatience.

I’m going to be transparent, so brace yourself:

I’m impatient because I wish my husband would heal completely from his traumatic brain injury. He never will. I’m impatient because I’m missing him, he is not the same man. I’m impatient because I’m tired of seeing my husband suffering and impaired. I’m impatient because we’ll never live under the same roof, and I don’t have his companionship. I’m impatient because my life is so altered and not what I had dreamed of. (If I go too far in this thinking, I will need to repent, as unbelief might set in!)

I bring my thoughts captive; Did I ever have control over my life…really? Do I trust in my God who goes before me and takes care of our needs? Yes, I wholeheartedly do. My God comforts me, in the suffering. He never leaves me and he loves me like no other. It is true, I’ll never get used to this “new normal”, because nothing about this tragedy is normal. But, I can get used to the fact that God is much bigger than myself and my circumstances. His ways are not my ways. He is Sovereign, in control. He enables me to trust him, in whatever he’s doing, both in Brian’s life and mine.

I realize this life is a practice run. It’s a “study” for something much more glorious to come. It’s okay that all the kinks, problems and the composition of my present world are not perfect or symmetrical.

I’m here to practice. I’m practicing patience, and practicing love. I do find joy being by my husband’s side and acting as his advocate. He innately remembers who I am and God gives us “mini” moments. I’m practicing gentleness, practicing kindness and meekness. I need to practice humility, as God gives me plenty of opportunities, in dealing with all kinds of people who are involved in taking care of Brian. This world is not my home, there’s a glorious future to come–my true hope is in the eternal. God richly sustains me until that day when I will clearly see the final, completed picture. In the mean time, I am still in the stages of a rough draft!

Jennifer

“Light Transmission” By Jennifer Deutsch 9x12 Acrylic on Canvas

The car radio suddenly blasted a tense musical rift. The obnoxious swearing, of a foul mouthed rapper, shouted over the calm, perfect pitch of the violin strings of a concerto. The radio assaulted my ears as the station was fading in and out. I was trying to be cultured, and had tuned in a classical station, only to have a coarse blast of malicious words interjected over Mozart. That’s my drive. Rural roads; spotty and weak radio transmission.

I travel these roads happily, as I visit my husband. The good news is; we finally moved him into the same county that I live in. After 2 ½ years of living out of a suitcase, and hundreds of miles apart, I’m grateful for the transfer. My wonderful family in Folsom; niece Liz Deutsch, Mike and the kids were so generous housing me for over two years. I miss the whole bunch. I miss them loads. But, the time had come to get Brian closer.

People ask how he’s doing. That’s a loaded question. I know most people reading this have the backstory on Brian’s brain injury. I think the hardest part of Brian moving closer, is my acceptance of his condition. It’s a stark reality, that although he lives in this facility and it’s a good place for him, we will never live under the same roof. He did receive some new therapists and therapy, but that’s already run out, his condition is static. He doesn’t appear to be able to make enough improvement to warrant the expense of more therapies. Although he will get treatments to keep up a certain amount of strength with excersise – the reality is, he is impaired. Severely so.

There are days when he lives in a very different world. For instance, recently he was convinced that there was a girl/lady laying on the floor, and that we had to pick her up, board a plane to fly her to Minnesota. That’s kind of funny, in a weird way. I said, “…you’re going with a girl to Minnesota?” He answered, “…oh you can come too.“ Good thing I was invited. I tried to convince him that there was no woman on the floor, he kept begging me to please get her up. His brain transmissions were getting cross wired. The injury has left him with no context to what happened to him. There’s other times where he’s more lucid. Then there’s the days that he’s busy working. He thinks he’s woodworking. Since he’s mostly blind from the brain injury, that’s the last thing he would be doing…using power tools!

I’m newly traumatized. Imagine for a moment, this was your husband or wife that was permanently damaged or worse yet it was you! I’m only saying this to reflect. So, when it comes to grief and losing a loved one, especially if they are still with you but never “coming back” (you can lose someone to TBI, to Alzheimer’s, for example) there is no method, no steps of grief, that we execute in orderly perfection. I speak from experience, I don’t think there’s a timetable we can go by either. I’m just now entering an acceptance phase. It hurts. It’s OK, I can make it through with my faith and support of others.

Ultimately heaven is my home, and this world is just a light transmission. The WORLD has the ability with interfering, using it’s ugly, harsh voices, during times of trials. This hard life, it’s black and blue song, seems to override, trying to drown out the classical orchestrated beauty of my life with God. It’s a sound mix that I’m going to have to deal with as I’m in this world, but not of it.

My freshest painting, above, is a new classic. The original pic was taken at a local coffee house in Hidden Valley Lake, where I live. Actually, the flowers in the vase –they are stunning aren’t they– they’re fake. It doesn’t matter. I have rearranged them to look vibrant and realistic. I had to include the background of golden ochre grass. The kind of ground cover only Lake County can produce in the dry desert of deep summer, along with the dusty green oak trees lined up in a row. The afore-mentioned backdrop helps to highlight the carafe vase as it casts an erie shadow on the sill. I like the transmission of light through the vessel. I wish for you the viewer, to enjoy this “light” hearted still life – rendered full of cosmic colorings.

How is Brian? How are we doing? This sums things up;

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:17,18

Wishing to hear a new song,

“Winded” by Jennifer Deutsch Acrylic on Canvas

The old adage “Truth is stranger than fiction” applies. Here is a random, happy account of Life With Brian:

I have been long-winded. I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. I’ve seen evidence of the wind and experienced the winds of change! Then there’s that embarrassing type of wind (that ladies don’t mention). I digress.

The above work, “Winded”, is brand new and I love it – pleased how it turned out. This coastal scene brings serenity, spaciousness, and a sense of movement; painted with colored imagination on a lengthy narrowed canvas. I admire the tall tilted Cypress trees and the wind forced branches, looking as if they are awkward dancing arms.

I felt awkward myself lately. I was walking down the hallway at Auburn Oaks Care Facility, where my husband lives who is mostly blind, greatly impaired from his brain injury. As I approach his room, one of the residents called out, “Jennifer, what did you do to your hair!?” She said this with a frown! (I’ve been going gray, on purpose, a silver platinum. So my natural color can blend in, unable to afford being blond.). I responded, something to the effect; “ Hi there. Oh, haha, it’s a little darker, and well if you don’t have anything nice to say, I’m just going to see Brian. Bye now lovie.“ She stared, she glared. Then resolutely she responded, “Good thing Brian is blind.”

Like I said…awkward! Yes that’s a funny line, and yes she has a bit of dementia–but really? I gave her a mocked shocked look, followed by a genuine smile and moved on. Every single time I saw her that day, she’d yell out for the whole world to hear, “I liked you so much better as a blonde.” No matter. There was redemption.

The next morning, Brian was more lucid than usual, and shouting out. “Where’s my wife, when is she going to get here?” The nurses were trying to engage him in conversation, a calming technique, and asked him who was his wife? He then described me, “My wife’s name is Jennifer and she’s a model.” The nurses hearts were “melted” and mine was shocked when I heard. I guess that’s how Brian “sees” me. I’ll take it. Even if I feel to be a geriatric model; a baby boomer with an awkward sciatic limp, walking down the runway (of life) a bit winded.

I know these tidbits are small in the scheme of things, but my heart was encouraged. Gray hair, blond, older or not, I’m a model in my injured husband’s mind. So sweet. As a believer in God, I see His hand in the small stuff; His encouragement, and care. What were the chances that that these two events happened right next to each other?! I see evidence of God is in this, in my everyday.

John 3:8 The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.

Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Weathering with the winds of change,

“Vessels Backlit II”, 9x12, acrylic on canvas

By Jennifer Deutsch

SPEAK FOR ME

“Set my alarm for 6:30 honey.” “How come?” “I’ve got to get up, and go to work.”

This was the interchange between my husband and I a few days ago. So sweet, and seemingly normal, but oh so sad. He doesn’t have an alarm clock, and doesn’t need one. He’s lying in a hospital bed. One side of his body; left arm and left hand are not useful anymore. He cannot walk unassisted, he cannot eat or drink unassisted. He is mostly blind from his injuries. He thinks he can still work, life as he knew it goes on…in his mind. A mind that has been altered, broken for life by a traumatic brain injury.

Most of my readers know, it’s been two and a half years since Brian’s car accident. The experts say he has the cognition, approximately, of a three-year-old, and his condition is static. By thinking he needs to GO to work; what he is doing, is called “transfabulation.” Where the brain tries to figure out what’s going on, categorize, if you will. Brian at other times, thinks he’s AT work, where in reality he lives in a skilled nursing facility, where he needs 24 hour surveillance and full care for the rest of his life.

While “working” he might ask myself or the nursing staff to hand him a woodworking tool. Usually a specific item that he “sees” laying around. He’s not lying or hallucinating. No, it’s that his brain is not sure where to place what’s happened to him! He’s trying to make sense of his life/world. He needs someone to speak for him, and it’s me, so others don’t think he’s crazy! There are better days where he is lucid and tracking. It’s a mixed bag. I try to gently remind him, he’s not at work, he doesn’t need to worry about meeting deadlines. It’s all ok.

There are days that I wish someone would speak for me. I have many pressures, overseeing Brian’s care. I have decisions to make, especially during transition points in this long bout of suffering we have been through. I’m always hopeful because I have the Lord, but once in a while it would be nice to “not think”, to be able to completely rest in Him. Wait a minute…that’s what I need to do and can do through Christ! His word tells me to give all my burdens to Him;

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and lowly in heart and you will find rest for your souls for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

God will give me wisdom, if I ask in faith, through my trials (James 1). Best of all, Christ is speaking for me, before The Father, helping me to make sense of my life–especially when I can’t. I might barely get out a mumble, a groan for help, but the Holy Spirit intercedes and interprets;

“Therefore He is able also to save forever those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them.” Hebrews 7:25

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Romans 8:26-27

Glory, I have such perfect advocates!

The painting above, is my newest. If it looks like the last work I painted, it has similarities. The one here, is my finished product, a commissioned piece. The last painting was a study, smaller and not as detailed. I like the luminous glow through the middle vase, along with the calligraphic details of the flowered vines, scribed on it’s surface. As per usual of my style, I have altered hues, pumped up the chromatic colors. Each vessel on this window sill has a personality, and voice. I can do that, as the artist. I’m taking license to make a better piece of art. Transforming the simple and mundane, vases, and making them into a more engaging experience. Exactly what my Lord does for me; He speaks for me, covers me with His righteousness, covers my sin and flaws. Gives me hope in my circumstances, as He intercedes for my spiritual well being!

Jennifer

“Back Lighting”, by Jennifer Deutsch Acrylic on Canvas/8x10

The Easter Sunday sermon at my church today was titled “Death, Then Life” (John 12:24-26). It was stirring.

‘Death, then life’ is not the order at the end of your Christian life, but throughout your Christian life. (Pastor Doug Thompson)

I won’t preach to you here, with the details of the sermon, but of all the 365 days of the year, I think today I can write about my faith. You can stop reading if the gospel offends you. I’m serious about what I believe and it can be a strange message!

As believers, we are to pattern our lives after Christ. Basically, Jesus came to this earth to die. By HIS sacrificial death on the cross, He took our sins upon himself, so we are free and clear, blameless. We are at peace before a Holy God, because Jesus overcame the World. He rose again, conquering sin and death, and now HE LIVES! Death then life, how can I pattern that?

Jesus says, “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.“ John 12:25

That’s sounds harsh! Let me break it down, how it was preached by my pastor (I am plagiarizing some ideas here, but it’s worth repeating!):

Why not love this life? Why hate it, why lose it? Because it’s the kind of loss that brings glory to God. Not living for our own passions, lusts and gains – the goal is to put those self-serving things to “death”. We are to exchange those hinderances in this life for following Him. (Even laying down our talents and abilities, not to be used for our own accolades!). As believers, our aim is to exchange the old ways; the bend towards sin, self and pride, so we can become more like Christ in manner and deed, by obedience to His Word. Anything that dominates us, that would blur our vision of God…must GO, be killed. It’s called mortifying the flesh! The last part of the verse above, also says we will keep our life. We can find true satisfaction now and for eternity, in serving Christ! Death to self first, then life. It’s a gain.

I’ve been thinking on this recently, trusting Christ through my trial – now a long standing tragedy – and how I’m conforming. My future is uncertain, but I’m called to follow Christ. My life in the here and now is in limbo; not knowing how much more my husband will heal from his brain injury, or when will we be moved closer together, what means will support us, will he get the special care he needs for the rest of his life, can I keep traveling hundreds of miles every week to be near him…and on it goes! I lay down my life, my burdens, and say, “I’m still living for your glory Lord, not mine”. Through suffering, I’ve learned what’s real, what matters, and have left behind my childish thinking, leanings, and fleshly desires. What I gain is God's mercy, provision, love, joy, hope, protection, and enabled to bare "fruit". It’s the only way to live, this life, now. I have the perfect “master” to follow. Even Jesus learned this way;

“Although He was a son, He learned obedience through what He suffered.” Hebrews 5:8

The new painting above, started out as a study for a larger recently commissioned piece. It’s my practice painting, a foundational exercise before I will render the finished product. The softly backlit vases placed perfectly on my window sill, stand proudly in all their varied colored splendor. There are sparks of white highlights, that play off the forms and shapes. Almost half of the vases’ surfaces are in the dark. From the viewer’s point of view, the objects are blocking the yellow haloed light.

I can compare my art to the topic at hand. Presently, my life now, it's similar to this practice painting. What one sees currently reflected in my life, is not the final “picture”. For the moment, like the vessels on the sill, I’m blocking out some of the natural light. Happily, as I am continually conformed through death then life…nothing will stop that light from coming forth even more. The final masterpiece will be accomplished by the “Master’s” hand. My life's painting is a work in progress. My part is to continue to make sure I’m dying to self, villagent in killing sin, so as to not distance myself from Christ! Wanting to follow closely,

Jennifer

“Calistoga Outbuilding Revisited”, by Jennifer Deutsch Acrylic on Canvas, 9x12

Piles of Ashes:

“To do His supreme work of grace with in you, He will take from your heart everything you love most. Everything you trust in will go from you. Piles of ashes will lie where your most precious treasures used to be.” A.W. Tozer

This above quote pertains to trials and pain; how suffering can train us, mold us, shape us. Tozer goes on to say…“A sculptor does not use a manicure set to reduce the rude, unshapely marble to a thing of beauty. The saw, the hammer and a chisel are cruel tools, but without them the rough stone must remain forever formless and unbeautiful.”

So, my heart is a pile of ashes. What things I clinged to before my husbands accident, whatever leanings, pillars I had, are but dust. Reader, you are already acquainted with our saga. What was and what is. “The Adventures of Brian and Jennifer ” for example, were our weekly Sunday outings. Coffee in Calistoga, a walk through wine country towns, sightsee, take in a movie, talk about our week, our family, our future. I’m forever grateful we had those last times together, besides all the 30 plus years raising our family. We will never be the same, do the same things, to go on those outings, ever again. No repeats.

The painting above is new! If it looks familiar, it’s a shed that charmed me. I painted this scene before, similar, but with a different view. I think it speaks “happy” considering this is a lone, abandoned, weather beaten structure. The afternoon dusty hued sunlight seems to lick the outer walls, highlighting the buildings position of glory in the overgrown wheat grasses. The sapphire sky suggests hope as the wandering gypsy, lightly bleached clouds cannot truly be contained. That’s me, my heart coming out of the ashes. Even though I’m somewhat alone (yes, and weathered!) separated from my brain injured husband, God in his wisdom is re-building the new adventures of Brian and Jennifer. The sky is the limit, on what God has planned and can do.

I have a snippet of life for you:

A little back ground…seven years before the accident Brian lost interest in going to church. I’m not making a judgement here, we worked it out. It’s that, if you know me, I’m the regular church going, in the choir, facilitating ladies Bible studies, kind of worshiper. It was a contrast, and I’m not sure what was keeping Brian from church. He knew the Bible and we had many a spiritual conversation. Fast forward to our new surroundings, Auburn Oaks Care Center – the place Brian has to live, due to his severe handicaps. He has virtually no short term memory, and lives in the moment. We are having dinner together, with the RNA, who helps Brian eat. He is basically blind. She is talking about a precious co-worker, we just found out has terminal brain cancer. The RNA gal is one of my young friends there, she doesn’t care for religion or church and typically that’s off topic. My friend pleads to me, “I don’t know what to say to her, whatever I might say seems to not be enough.” I was thinking of something non-offensive and secular, “Let her know you are simply thinking of her.”, was my reply. Brian pipes up, “She needs prayer, say a prayer, something like that.” So we agreed and we said a quick prayer for the cancer laden co-worker.

“Brian is that OK?”, we ask. He said yes then, “I need a prayer”. I said a short one at the table. We heard a bold voice, “I need ANOTHER prayer! ” My friend, the RNA, said she would, and reportedly prayed for Brian that night, even though she doesn’t “believe”. I thought that interesting. The interchange opened up future conversations, about what my Bible beliefs are and Brian was the one that opened that door. Chalk that up to a new type of adventure of Brian and Jennifer!

One more short scenario. The nurse was telling me to please bring Brian more long sleeve shirts, it was cold. Brian’s roomate, whom I mostly judge as grumpy, crusty and a bit crazy–he says to me…“Go ahead and take one of my long-sleeved shirts for Brian, please take some.” He makes me go to his closet, I choose one. He tries to get me to take more, “Brian’s my buddy and I watch out for him”, he mumbles loudly. I’m supremely humbled, ashamed of my bad attitude towards this old codger. He may be crusty, but he is more generous of spirit than me. He shared out of his poverty – his closet was nearly bare. He loves Brian. I have a much better outlook on this fellow. God used it, another chisel and hammer moment to shape my prideful soul. A chance for me to share – I could bring Brian’s roomate more shirts!

All part of our adventure together, Brian and Jennifer are back. Like the painting above, it’s similar but something all together new. May all my previous leanings be burned up, so that my true source of strength is The Lord himself. Also, may future sculpting not be so painful, as I hope I’m shaped into something “beautiful” or at the very least something recognizable – sooner than later!

In His Strength, Jennifer