Paint Chickens. Tell the Story. It will work out.

21 Aug

It’s remarkable to me what a little life experience will add to a story I’ve heard. You may remember that I found myself in Charleston, South Carolina in June for a marketing meeting. I arrived a day early and had some time to walk around the city. I was walking down the street, looked up and across the street and this is what I saw.

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That’s right–across the street, through some trees, in the park I saw a giant chicken and rooster. Well that’s enough to derail a lot of people I’d like to think… I couldn’t help but wonder “why would anyone dedicate an entire tent to chicken paintings?”.

Here’s the part where some life experience helps. Since that day in Charleston, I’ve started raising chickens. I bought them with the intent of having fresh eggs, something I’ve learned to love over the years. But an amazing thing happened. I learned that chickens are remarkable creatures. They are perfect at being exactly what they are supposed to be, and that has a profound effect on how I feel about the world. I’ve eaten breakfast out by their coop many a day, sat watching them and talking with friends in the dusk, allowing the calmness of their perfect “being” to wash over me.

I woke up this morning and one of my new chickens was crowing. For some reason that sound brought to mind my conversation with Madison on that warm summer day in Charleston.

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Madison has always loved to paint, and has used it for therapy throughout her life. Earlier in life she started painting different things hoping to create a gallery, start selling, and make a living doing what she loved.

Then in her mid-thirties tragedy struck her family–literally. Three of her close family were killed in an accident with an 18-wheel truck. The suddenness of the tragedy, and so many of her family being taken at once left her numb, frozen in time–feeling fear and anger and wondering if God had made a mistake. Not knowing what to do, she turned to the most natural form of therapy in her life – painting.

She lives on a farm in South Carolina, and she retired to her barn one day to paint and grieve and, hopefully, find some peace. Her guinea chickens were pecking and scratching and clucking around the barnyard when a hawk fell from the sky, killed one of the chickens, grabbed it in it’s talons, and flew off.

The rest of the chickens were terrified, and came running to Madison. Clucking and screaming in their fear of the predator that had struck. To Madison she felt like the vocalization of the birds was their way of processing the tragedy, of purging their anger and fear. Soon, the chickens returned to what they do best–being chickens. They returned to living in the moment and started scratching and pecking and clucking again.

That’s when the breakthrough came for Madison. Even though the hawk may return in fifteen minutes, or fifteen days, the chickens were in the “now”. For right now the chickens were going to enjoy their lives. Madison termed it “Present Time Joy”. They, and she, were simply happy to be in the moment they had been given. She felt a wave of relief and happiness sweep over her as she realized she still had much to do in the moments that were a gift to her.

Then she heard a voice, The Voice, say “Now paint chickens and tell the story of what just happened. Share the lesson you’ve just learned”. Thoughts of what she had imagined her career to be–selling paintings in the big cities, art galleries in New York, Los Angeles, and Europe flashed through her mind. She replied to the voice “Nobody will buy chickens!”.

The voice replied “Paint and talk. I will take care of the rest”.

That was in 1995, and in that moment she became aware of how connected we all are, connected by an “eternal force” from which we all came. She has painted chickens and told the story every since. Now her chickens hang in galleries in New York, Los Angeles, and Europe. But what means even more to her is that her chickens, her creations, are hanging in homes and bringing happiness to thousands of people throughout the eastern United States – and she is sure each painting communicates how we are all connected. Each creation helps people appreciate their “Present Time Joy” as a result of Madison painting the chickens, and telling the story.

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Postscript: I spoke with Madison over the course of several hours that day. She is a fascinating lady. Many came to her tent there in the park to visit, and many purchased her paintings. She takes the time to learn about each person that comes along, tells them a version of the story that she thinks best fits them, and smiles and laughs a lot.

When someone purchases a painting, she takes the time to write a personal message related to the story on the back of the painting, positive that the happiness of her message on the back makes the painting on the front mean more.

I learned a lot from Madison.

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Train Station by Midnight

24 Jul

My wife and I had just watched the sun set into the Pacific ocean from a bench high atop a cliff. The towns in this area are small, and the restaurants we found were closed and/or closing at 8:30. We decided to head into Morro Bay to see if we could find some food there…

As we drove down Highway 1, the dusk settling into night around us, we passed a man walking along the side of the road, dragging a travel bag on wheels, barely catching a glimpse of him in the headlights. He was in the middle of nowhere. Well, nowhere in California is a little different from nowhere in Utah, but he was out away from all cars, all towns, just trudging along.

I felt LeeAnn look at me, “we have to go see if he needs help” she said – I had the same feeling. I was already signaling to pull over and turn around…

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His name is David. He woke up this morning and his truck wouldn’t start in Gorda Springs, about 30 miles from where we picked him up. He said he had told the manager of the motel that he would pick up his truck in a week, and started walking and we were the first car that had pulled over to offer help all day.

He wasn’t bitter about the fact that nobody had helped him – he actually said he didn’t blame them. “People are just afraid now”, he said, “you never know what kind of crazy you might be picking up”.

He had to get to San Luis Obispo to catch an Amtrak train by midnight. He mentioned he had just told the Lord that he had tried his hardest, but he just wasn’t going to make the train tonight… then a miracle…

He’s headed for Cheyenne. His son worked on a ranch there, had a wife and two kids, had just bought four acres of his own to start his own ranch… the son that died two days ago when a horse threw him and he broke his neck on impact. David needed to be in Cheyenne to “set things straight” he said.

David lives in Big Sur. He moved here for ten years ago after his wife was killed in a car crash. He’s made his way mining jade from the local mountains, carving and shaping it and polishing it to sell in his shop. He just couldn’t keep up with all the expenses – gas is $5.00/gallon in Big Sur ($3.20 everywhere else at this writing), rent for his store was very expensive – he just couldn’t move enough jade to make it work. He had just returned from selling the rest of his jade inventory in San Francisco…

Then word of his son. A quick purchase of a round trip ticket on Amtrak, and a drive to San Luis Obispo that just didn’t go as planned. He’ll be on the train for the next 22 hours, but he doesn’t mind. He’s got a sleeper car, and the scenery will be beautiful. It will give him time to think…

He’s not sure what he’ll do now. There’s not a lot holding him in Big Sur – except his truck broken down 40 miles south in Gorda Springs… maybe he’ll stay on in Wyoming, and try to make a go of the ranch his son started. He said it like he wanted it to happen, but I got the impression his heart wasn’t in it.

What he’d like to do most is return to the east coast… Florida. He misses it. A lot.

We drove him all the way into San Luis Obispo – so he had some time to tell us his stories. We dropped him off down the street from the train station. He offered to pay us gas money. We wished him the best. What do you say to a person who has this kind of weight in his life?

The thing about it was… well he was just kind of upbeat. He wasn’t pleased about the situations in his life right now, but he wasn’t a victim, he wasn’t depressed. He had this overall upbeat attitude that he would “set things straight” and his life would get back on track again. He told us stories of situations that would be hard for us to bear, but he did it with a demeanor that made us think that overall, David was going to be all right.

We headed back to our family – a little more grateful… feeling a little more blessed.

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Following His Heart Paid Off

21 Jul

Whenever I’m in a city/town/hamlet by an ocean – I look for a street called “Embarcadero”. Because I have had many a great experience on streets named that. There seems to be a huge selection of great food, great music, and interesting people to be found.

Yesterday the street was in Moro Bay, CA. My wife booked a rental house for our family vacation in a town I didn’t even know existed. Come to find out it has a working fishing community and a terrific street called Embarcadero. People just seem to be friendlier on streets of that name, willing to talk and share their lives–and it might just be me, but you see unique things. I’m going to share one photo as a case in point…

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You’ve got to admit, there’s something you don’t see everyday.

So the whole street has this great vibe going, and there’s lots of interesting places to stop and talk to people. There’s a cool sound to it too, as you walk along the large wooden planks that make up the boardwalk, hearing that hollow wooden sound with every step. A wide variety of fascinating smells come to you too. One minute it smells like a pretty woman that just walked by, and the next you catch a whiff of the garbage that must be sitting behind one of the many restaurants, and after that the distinct aroma of a steaming pot of clam chowder. But mostly it’s that clean, salty, ocean smell that I find myself longing for when I’ve been in the Salt Lake valley for too long.

As I wandered down one particular part of the boardwalk, I saw a gallery of various paintings. I stepped inside and was immediately greeted by an artist who was painting in the corner. He told me that if I had any questions to feel free to ask. I’m pretty sure he didn’t realize who he was asking – I tend to have a lot of questions! An hour and a half later I left the gallery with a story of a man who has taken a very interesting journey through life.

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Larry told me that when he graduated from high school he got a job repping surf and snowboard gear. His area covered all of California, Nevada, and parts of Utah. Within six months he was making more than his mom and dad combined – and living high on life. He told me he loved his life for the first two years. He would spend two or three weeks a month on the road, and said he was on the phone pretty much twenty-four hours a day. He was living fast and making lots of money. According to him the first two years were a riot, the second two years were a lot like work, and the final two years felt a lot like hell.

He found himself wondering if this was “it”. Was this really what the rest of his life would be? Working harder and harder to make bigger and bigger numbers? He wondered where the reward was in that. Where was the fun in life?

He said when he was a kid his grandmother would give him an art kit for his birthday every year. One of those big trays full of crayons, colored pencils, markers, various kinds of paper, and water color paints and brushes. Every year he would use all of the materials except the water color paints.

One weekend he had just returned home from a week on the road selling surf gear, and he decided to pull out that pile of leftover watercolor paints and try painting. He painted what was in his heart, ocean scenes. He sold gear for people who played in the ocean, but he never had the chance to go himself. He was missing the ocean so that’s what he painted. Two small 5×7 paintings appeared at the end of his brush, and he liked them enough to hang them in the entry way to his home.

A friend came over and liked them – asked how much Larry would sell them for. When Larry told his friend that he had painted them, the friend wanted them even more. He paid Larry $20 each for those first two paintings. Larry laughed and told me he took that $40 and went and bought the beer for the party that night. But that initial success with painting stuck with him as he continued working brutal hours and making the big money…

Then one day six years into it, he just snapped. He’d had it. He quit his job, sold all of his stuff, and moved to Kauai. There he lived in a dumpy apartment, selling his paintings occasionally and surfing every day. He intended his time there to be a break to regroup and rethink his life. But soon he realized he wanted this to be his life.

He moved back to Moro Bay and decided to treat painting like a business. He set strict hours for himself to paint, and strict hours to sell. He started by approaching restaurants and coffee houses to display his work, and later combined forces with another artist to start the gallery that he and I were talking in.

Now he has a wife and kids. He works/paints at the gallery three days a week, still keeps his sales hours going, but he can spend a lot of time with his kids. LIfe is fun for him now. Oh sure, there are ups and downs. He said he might have a $10,000 month, but it might be two more months before he makes another sale. But overall it’s growing, he’s making a name for himself, developing a following.

He’s never taken an art class. He simply followed his heart. Now he supports his family, not only financially, but by spending time with them too, and he’s been doing it full time for eight years. He and his partner plan to double their gallery space at the end of their current lease.

Following his heart paid off. Larry is happy. I’m glad for the time I got to spend with him.

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Your Daddy’s Rich!

12 Jul

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Larry and his brother grew up in a small town. Their dad was a successful business man known to all, except his boys. Larry told me the story of how he and his brother found out.

“My brother and I were about 10 and 8 years old respectively. We had gone downtown and were standing in a store looking at some merchandise. The store owner came up to us and asked us if we wanted it. We replied that we sure did want it, but we didn’t have any money.

The store owner replied “well aren’t you the Humes boys?”.

We told him we were. He knew my dad by name – asked if that was our dad. Yep, it sure was.

“Well you boys are rich!” the store owner exclaimed.

“We ARE?” We were dumbfounded – we had no idea we were rich! This was a great revelation to us, but the store owner had additional information.

“Well you boys just take this (motioning to the merchandise), and I’ll give your dad credit. At the end of the month I’ll just send him a statement and he’ll pay for it then.”, he said.

“You will? He will?” This was great information indeed!

So we took the merchandise and went to the next store on the block. We walked in a proudly declared “We’re the Humes boys!”. We went up and down that street stopping at every store, and sure enough every store owner knew that we were rich and extended credit to our dad.

That was the best day of our lives!

However soon it was the end of the month.

Our dad came in with a handful of statements and asked us what had happened. We were very excited to tell him that we were rich! He replied “I’m rich, you boys are not!”.

He then started handing out the chores and my brother and I worked off every penny of the debt we incurred that day – that day when we found out our daddy was rich.”

Larry and I work together – sorta. He and I are in the same marketing department, but he lives in Florida and I’m in Utah. So we see each other once or twice a year. I have him tell this story every time we’re with someone new – I wish I had video of him telling it. It’s a great story, and he tells it very well.

I hope I’ve done it some justice here.

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Sailing Away

28 Jun

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“When we are in Charleston, you HAVE to see the Rhett-Aiken house” a coworker of mine insisted. So when I arrived in Charleston for business a day early, I found the directions to the house, slung my camera backpack over my shoulder, and headed out into the great city of Charleston ready for this adventure. The house was only a mile away, I’d walk it.

About four or five blocks into my walk I happened upon the Citadel Square Park (I think that’s what it was called). It was full of white tents full of art. What was even better is the fact that the show had just opened for the day, business was slow, so the artists had time to talk.

I saw Peggy sitting under an umbrella outside of her booth, and stopped to ask about the show. I ended up talking to her and her friends for a over an hour. I’m sad to say I didn’t make it to the Rhett-Aiken house, but I’m pleased to say that I met some terrific people that gave me a flavor for the Charleston area.

Peggy specializes in nudes. She says people ask her all the time how long it takes her to create a painting that sells for between $500 and $800. She pauses and smiles sadly, shaking her head. I can tell this question frustrates her. She looks back up at me and says “It took me 35 years to paint every one of them”. In essence, people that ask that are trying to take a lifetime of passion and experience and boil it down to “how much are you making an hour”. Maybe it’s unreasonable, but to an artist who loves what comes out of them, that kind of bean-counting hurts.

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She told me many stories from her life – how her world had been torn apart by hurricanes, and she rebuilt each time. She doesn’t make enough to support herself through her art, so she rents rooms to Boeing engineers. She likes them, she says, because they make good money and they are quiet. That made me smile.

She wasn’t having a good time at the show. Her work isn’t selling as well as those in the booths around her. She points to a booth that is still closed – says she watches people come out of that booth carrying three or four pieces of work – the proprietor is a showman, a salesman extraordinaire. He’ll offer one for free if you buy just one more at half price. He’s stacking it deep and selling it cheap.

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It’s painful for Peggy, I can see it in her eyes. She loves her work – she wouldn’t do it otherwise. But she’s only sold two pieces since she’s been here, and I think she’s given up selling any more. It’s like some sort of judgement on her work – I mention that she’s probably not reaching her true demographic here and she agrees. She finds that I’m in marketing. She asks me to help her – help her see a better way to market her work. That’s a question that is larger than the short time she and I will spend together.

I feel her pain. I “sold out” long ago. Went straight to the companies with the big money for marketing and produced “artwork” for them. I’d pour my soul into work that they would discard for something with 1/3 as much heart – or worse – sometimes just hire me to be a button-pusher. I’ve had clients tell me if they knew how to run the software they wouldn’t even be there, they had all the creative vision they needed, I was there to simply execute.

In my world it’s always seemed to be one of two extremes. The first is a project with a huge budget, but all the creative was already done. I was there to simply execute. But boy I could pay the bills. The second kind of project are the ones where there is no budget at all – they are grateful for anything they get – and I can pour my heart and creativity into them and make them my own.

I love the second kind best. It’s always been a struggle for me to balance between those two clients. I’ve never seemed to be able to put a big budget together with someone trusting me to do the right thing on their project… hmmm. Now that I type that I realize that’s not quite true. I find that as I reflect on my freelance career I learn more about myself with each passing day…

So all of these kinds of issues flooded through my head as I was talking to Peggy. She was starting to think the same thing – maybe it was time to paint things that people wanted to buy, instead of the things that she was passionate about. Such a sad thing to consider…

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One of her friends owns a sailboat. He and Peggy are in the early planning stages of an epic voyage down the coast to the Caribbean. He will sail, she will paint, they will stop at various ports to sell her work. There’s lots of planning ahead, but Peggy thinks watercolors of beautiful beaches will sell better than her nudes – and she’ll be painting them in new and interesting places…

She wondered out loud about “selling out”, about “pandering to the masses”. While she wrestles with those weightier issues there’s the care of a home that she’s rebuilt from hurricane wreckage, there’s the engineers renting rooms from her, there’s a lot to consider before simply sailing away.

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That’s the Last Time I Saw Jimmy

21 Jun

I met Joe on the Sunday before Memorial day this year.  Appropriate since it will be a long time before I forget him and the amazing stories he told me of his life – the most memorable is in the video link below.

Can I just say here – God bless the men and women who serve in our armed forces.  I’m tempted to simply make PSN a network about them and their incredible stories of sacrifice on our behalf.

Joe is one of these amazing people who served – sadly in a very unpopular war.  Politics aside, I say God bless Joe for his willingness to serve, and the sacrifices he made.  I hope you appreciate his story.

View Joe’s Interview here:

One final note – in part of the interview you don’t see here Joe talks about his parents immigrating from Italy when he was a small boy.  Joe did two tours in Viet Nam before he was given leave to fly to Hawaii and finally be granted U.S. citizenship.

Realize that when  Joe went through the experience he tells here, he wasn’t a U.S. citizen.  Remarkable.

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A Vision for Life

17 Jun

Meet Ann Webb.  I helped her do an introduction video for her web site, and found a very interesting story in the process.  This is packaged a little differently than my other videos – but it’s a great story so I wanted to share it with you.  I hope you like it as much as I do – well even half as much would be ok too.

http://vimeo.com/12632712

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An Unexpected Birth

4 May

Natalie contacted me when she saw Kit’s video.  All she really told me was that she had an amazing story based on the birth of her son.  We arranged to meet in a park where she could tell me the story.

http://vimeo.com/11410048

These are remarkable people.  Both Natalie and Junior have great heart.  I was so impressed by their outlook on life, and their cute family.  I’m grateful to them for sharing their story.

I’m aware of the imperfections technically of this video.  I’m still working through the issues that come with a video camera that doesn’t have an eye piece.  In the bright sun it’s very hard to see what exactly I’m recording…  So please forgive my learning curve.

Walking past these people in the park, playing with their boys, you’d never know the amazingly difficult circumstances they have gone through.  Reaching out to others to learn their stories to share in this blog has been one of the more rewarding experiences of my life.  I wholeheartedly recommend it.

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Brian Returns to School: The Video

4 Apr

I wrote about my meeting with Brian a couple of weeks ago – this is the video I did for work. I’m excited for you to get a chance to really “meet” Brian, and see his confidence and personality as he moves into this amazing time of learning and discovery in his life.

http://vimeo.com/10352862

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Two Tumors

4 Apr

It’s 2:00 in the afternoon and I’m sitting in a wide hallway that connects a building of classrooms to the new library at UVU – Utah Valley University. If I had been here a week ago I’m sure hundreds of students would have been pouring through this space, but today the only person here is a man with an Ipod pushing some sort of carpet cleaning machine back and forth – leaving overlapping patterns of slightly damp carpet in his wake.

I’ve set up the video camera, have the mikes levels adjusted. My phone rings. Brian is on the first floor, I tell him I’m on the second. He’s on his way.

I’m not sure what I’ll find here. I work with his mom, really just barely got to know her a few weeks ago. I know that when Brian was an early teen he had a pretty scary diagnosis from a group of doctors…

One of the first things Brian tells me when he gets comfortable is he’s not scared. He thinks maybe he should be nervous since we’re video taping, but he’s not. He has an easy air about him, he’s obviously a people person. He has an easy smile, a calm demeanor. We seem to be hitting it off, and I imagine we are both breathing a sigh of relief on some level.

I get a mike on him, check levels one more time, turn the video camera on and we start talking.

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It started when he was seven – first as kind of an ache and then quickly growing into a tremendous pain in his lower back. His mom took him to doctors, they ran their tests. Nothing. Brian told me it was suggested more than once that it might be in his head.

Then a new pain a couple of years later, between his shoulder blades in his back. When this new pain was really rocking, he told me it was like a knife sticking through his lungs and out of his chest. It hurt to breathe. Still, the doctors found nothing.

Finally, seven years later, Brian and his mom are living in Utah. A doctor orders an MRI. Brian was told it would take half an hour, he spent almost five hours in the tube. He was only 14, but he could tell from the tone of the technicians voices, and the fact they had to keep scanning, that something wasn’t right.

His primary care giver looked at the scans and told them they had to get to a specialist quick. Two tumors where growing very slowly in Brian’s back, and it was beyond what he could do. There was hope that the tumors might be benign…

Fast forward to the first surgery. They took samples of both tumors and sent them for testing. Three days later they called and said that both tumors where malignant – some further testing proved that they had not spread to his brain, but within a week Brian was laying on an operating table for 13 hours while they removed the lower tumor. A couple of days later another 7 hour surgery to remove the upper tumor. Then the radiation started…

We take a break from filming, Brian reaches down and opens his bottle of blue Gatorade and takes a swallow. Then he said the most amazing thing. He told me he was glad it was him. Glad it was him that had the tumor. He felt that way the day of the diagnosis, he feels that way now. He was young, and he was strong, and he knew that he had what it took in him to beat this – so it was better he have this than someone else.

He’s convinced that attitude helped him beat it, was key to it only taking two and a half years until he was pronounced ready to join life again. You know what? I believe him. I think his attitude was everything…

Well he did beat it. After four years or so he was given a clean bill of health, sorta… He tried to go back to school – he was just too far behind. He had tutors try to help him, but it’s hard to really be motivated when you’re on chemo-therapy, and I guess as a tutor it’s hard to push a kid that feels that poorly…

So he was was 18, out of school, and working at a Taco Bell. Welcome to life.

But recurring thought kept coming to him as he went about going to work and earning a check. He thought about completing his GED, going to college, getting a degree. But he just didn’t feel like they would want him, that he could fit into that acedemic lifestyle.

He told me the turning point came when he was listening to a speech by President Obama. The President said that by going to school you are serving your country – something that Brian had always wanted to do – and President Obama backed it up by making money available.

Brian told me everything worked out so perfecty… He was living a few blocks away from UVU, he had just lost his job, and the money came through allowing him to start school.

So there we are, sitting in the institution of higher education that he attends, and he lists off the ways that the universe has moved to bring him to this place, at this time. He looks at me and says “it’s like I’m supposed to be here. This is truly where I’m supposed to be… and that’s a cool feeling”.

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