Wednesday, August 26, 2015


Rose (Stacy Wills, 2015)
16" x 20" acrylic on canvas

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Excerpt taken from John O'Donohue's (1956-2008) 
poem, "The Inner History of a Day."

Friday, July 24, 2015


Kindled (Stacy Wills, 2015)
acrylic on canvas, cropped from larger painting

"And it came to pass…when I was 42 years and 7 months old, that the heavens were opened and a blinding light of exceptional brilliance flowed through my entire brain…it kindled my whole heart and breast like a flame, not burning but warming…and suddenly I understood…"
                                                             -Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179)

Monday, July 20, 2015


Sitting (Stacy Wills, 2015)
24" x 36" acrylic on canvas

Love came and emptied me of self,

every vein and every pore,

made into a container

to be filled by the Beloved.

Of me, only a name is left,

the rest is You my Friend,

my Beloved.

Abu-Said Abil Kheir,

Sufi poet (967-1049)

Sunday, April 12, 2015

The Evolution of "Your Time Has Come to Shine" + Words of Wisdom from Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.  Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking 
so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.  We were born 
to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

-Marianne Williamson

Your Time Has Come to Shine (Stacy Wills, 2015)
24" x 36" acrylic on canvas

Sunday, March 22, 2015

The Evolution of Anastasia and a poem from Pablo Neruda

The good thing about having studio space away from home is that I get to spend a lot of time painting with minimal distraction (meaning time on the internet!), which is lovely…the bad thing about having minimal internet time is - my blog is sorely neglected.  This morning I am up early to get a jump on preparing a proper Sunday dinner for my two youngest children and their friends who are in town for the weekend.  While I'm waiting for the boiled eggs to cool enough so that I can peel them, I thought I'd chronicle the evolution of my most recent painting, Anastasia



Anastasia by Stacy Wills, 2015
(20" x 24" acrylic on canvas)

My other passion is poetry…sometimes the writing of it…but always the reading.  I delight in pairing  word and image…always in search of the right wine to accompany the meal…for this painting, a fine Pablo Neruda.


And it was at that age…poetry arrived
in search of me.  I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
and open,
palpitating plantations,
the darkness perforated,
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

-Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The Evolution of "Love Does"

 I am fascinated by how paintings evolve.
Especially when one does not start out
with a particular image in mind.  Such was
the case with this painting.  What began as
an abstract in which I wanted to simply use 
up the leftover paint from my last painting,
morphed into something else completely.
I have begun to photograph the stages that
my paintings go through.  I find it helps me
gain a different perspective and gives me
a new set of eyes with which to see what
needs changing or adding or more attention.
In the case of this abstract, I noticed the curve
of turquoise and thought it looked like the
edge of a halo - the kind saints have in icons,
and thus the journey began...
Doing the initial rough sketch.
Trying out different color combinations. add a cross...or
not.  This was a turning point.  A sadness crept in and
 I did not know if this was going to be a man or a woman.
I enjoy listening to spoken word pieces while I paint.
They may be audio books, podcasts, lectures, 
or even sermons.  At this juncture, I had begun 
to listen to a sermon in which the minister
referenced the story of Rizpah from the Old
Testament, which can be found  in II Samuel 21:8-14.
Now the story of Rizpah normally doesn't get a
whole lot of air time in sermons.  Hers is a sad, 
difficult and painful story.   In fact, in my
54 years, I do not recall ever having heard a
sermon about her.  So her story really got my attention,
and began to resonate on many different levels.
Rizpah exhibits a depth of love as she mourns and
grieves the unjust and untimely death of her two sons,
that puts everything else happening in the story into
 perspective.  Once the painting was complete, I went 
on to do more reading about Rizpah.  British Rabbi, 
Jonathan Magonet describes her as "every mother who
 sees her sons killed before their time for reasons of state, 
be they in time of peace or in war.  All that remains is for
 her to preserve the dignity of their memory and live 
on to bear witness and call to account the rulers of
 the world."  I also learned that Alfred Lord Tennyson
 wrote a poem entitled, "Rizpah," which reads in part:
"Flesh of my flesh was gone, 
But bone of my bone was left - 
I stole them all from the lawyer - 
and will you call it a theft? 
 My baby, my bones, that had sucked me, 
the bones that had laughed and had cried.
Theirs?  O no! they are mine - 
not theirs - 
they had moved in my side."
"Love Does" by Stacy Wills
(22" x 22" acrylic on watercolor paper)

I chose to name it, "Love Does," because that is the title
 of the sermon by Pastor Jon Stone of Renovatus Church
that I was listening to online which inspired the final
direction the painting took.  When all seems lost, and
   no one knows what else there is to do...Love does.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

If You Want

Our Lady (Stacy Wills, 2014)
alcohol ink on tile + sacred altering

If You Want

If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the road
pregnant with the holy, and say,
"I need shelter for the night, please take me inside
your heart, my time is so close."

Then, under the roof of your soul, 
you will witness the sublime intimacy, 
the divine, the Christ taking birth, forever,
as she grasps your hand for help, 
for each of us is the midwife of God,
each of us.

Yes there, under the dome of your being
does creation come into existence eternally,
through your womb, dear pilgrim - the sacred womb
of your soul, as God grasps our arms for help:
for each of us is his beloved servant, never far.

If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the street 
pregnant with Light and sing.

-St. John of the Cross
(translation by Daniel Ladinsky)