jeanetteleeart

My husband John recently posed for a small group of family at a weekly art night we were holding. I realize this depiction is pretty “real” and I’m okay with that.

John has been through a lot. Early this year while we were living in New York John discovered a canker on his tongue that was not healing. After a couple of months he visited with a doctor who urged him to have a biopsy as soon as possible. He was diagnosed with tongue cancer just as I was graduating.

We moved back to Utah weeks earlier than planned to meet with a surgeon at Huntsman Cancer Institute and early in June he had 40% of his tongue removed along with lymph nodes in his neck. They created a reconstruction to replace the missing bulk in the tongue by removing a large piece of skin, vein and artery from the back of his arm.

We were in the hospital for 13 days healing from the surgery and receiving care from an infection. During that time he had a tracheostomy and feeding tube and had to communicate by writing on a white board.

Post surgery John was able to figure out how to talk and swallow and was on a liquid diet for 4 months while also receiving daily radiation treatments for 6 weeks.

John was a champ through all of it; maintaining a positive attitude and patience, great sense of humor, and treating everyone with kindness. He lost his sense of taste and salivation was limited.

Unfortunately, the flap reconstruction that was made for his tongue was far too large which not only made speech and eating extra difficult, but also posed problems with chewing up his own flap, which has no nerves. So he had a second tongue reduction surgery which improved the size a bit but afterward we dealt with infection and stitches coming out so the flap was quite a mess. This was the most discouraging part of recovery because it seemed apparent that there was no quick fix and some things would continue being a challenge going forward.

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Visit to Maynard Dixon’s home and studio. This is an absolutely lovely, wild location in Southern Utah. Now I’m going to have to come back to do some plain air painting here!

To follow up, here are a few thoughts about the painting. Being on a dry, parched, cracking desert floor that stretches as far as that eye can see into the distance is a less than ideal environment and suggests the discomfort and disorientation resulting from the realities of the world we live in and the limitations and lack that we face.

And then there is this vase of water, right smack in the center. It feels so unlikely. And yet so desperately needed. The vases shaped with the top lip, extending outwards, allows for a greater amount of water to be collected and resembles open arms, reaching upward to the heavens. It not only points to the concept of openness, but also of worship and praise, suggesting a desire or reaching for the sacred and heavenly even while being on the ground.

I was able to meet and speak with the artist, .richmond, who was present at the opening night at the museum. He spoke about his process of going out into the desert where the ground is dry and cracking and waiting for the rain with vases to catch the water. As I think about a vase collecting rainwater in the desert, it’s ironic that the entire ground receives the rainwater on its surface, but only within this container that is collecting, holding, storing, and treasuring the valuable resource is the water accessible. I believe God‘s love, mercy, and goodness can be found everywhere and is given in abundance, but this painting reminds me that it is my choice within the container of my body and mind, my soul, my life, and the time which I am trusted with to receive what is available and to use, remember, implement, appreciate, and value what is given.

The painting, therefore, is a call for me to hold. To partake and cherish and appreciate, even when it feels so unlikely that such a precious, needed resource might be possible and accessible as a solution.

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“Hope”, 36x40, oil on board. This painting is about the experience of being stuck in a bramble; dark with thorns, tangles, and weeds, but seeing a clearing and glimpse of light in the distance.

I want to share some personal feelings that this painting speaks to about the heavy time we are passing through.

Charlie Kirk’s recent assassination was not only tragic, but alarming to see the hatred and divisiveness reach this level of violence. With UVU just down the street from our home and my son being on campus that day, it made the experience feel close to home. My heart wants so much to protect my children from the trauma and reality of living in this kind of world but I know that is not possible.

After this experience, I have been pondering about a recent message from who spoke this past spring about our need as followers of Jesus Christ to be peacemakers. He said, “Anger never persuades. Hostility builds no one. Contention never leads to inspired solutions. The present hostility in public dialogue and on social media is alarming. Hateful words are deadly weapons. Contention prevents the Holy Ghost from being our constant companion. Let us plead with our Heavenly Father to fill our hearts with greater charity, especially for those who are difficult to love.”

I was so grateful for prophetic counsel reminding us that love, peace, unity, and forgiveness are the solution, and I was deeply touched to learn that Kirks wife offered forgiveness to the perpetrator.

You can imagine then that on Sunday I was very sad to learn that President Nelson passed away at age 101. His words were incredibly impactful and transformative for me in my efforts to grow as a disciple of Christ. As I think back on the messages he shared, and how my efforts to follow his inspired invitations change my life so much, I am profoundly grateful and feel deep sorrow for our loss of this spiritual giant.

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Progress shots from the plein air study in . There was a father and son walking on the path. The son looked like a mini version of his dad and I had to include them into the painting.

Here you can see my plein air study, a value sketch to determine the overall composition of the piece, and the initial work of a larger painting, 36 x 36 inches.

I will show the finished painting once I am done with the finishing touches.

“No Trespassing” 8x8.

I love this old garage with a no trespassing sign. It’s actually on the property of my husband‘s cousin’s home .allen.7165 in Spring City where we are visiting this week. It causes me to think about our need for privacy and how inspired I am when others open up and share their lives, their home, and their resources. We have learned so much and been very inspired from the Allen family and I hope that I can relate this level of openness and generosity to others.

“This too shall pass”, 6x6. Instead of charging out and painting the landscape, today I felt drawn to stay in the room and consider depicting from life my husband who is not feeling well. And doing my best to make the most of supply and other limitations.

I decided to paint big today, 24x36 and since I only have my small pochade setup, I got inventive using the cooler as an easel!

Big thanks to my sweet husband .ja1776 who came along on this excursion and sat by me even though he’s not feeling well, having just completed radiation treatment.

I am enjoying painting outdoors in , participating in their annual plein air competition. This painting is outside the historic home of my husband’s uncle where we are staying, which we learned was the old Allred Hotel. Both of us have family who lived in this town; my ancestor Isaac Allred helped to settle the town and John’s great grandfather was a bishop in the community for over 20 years. It’s amazing being in a town with such fantastic scenery in which we both have strong roots.

The home is full of antiques with a story for everything. You can see me playing this old piano, the first one in Denver Colorado.