Art - Connects Our Hearts

“One moment can change a day, one day can change a life and one life can change the world” Buddha

There is a special place right in the heart of Sea Cliff, The Creative Arts Studio.

The Creative Arts Studio was founded almost 20 years ago by Tracy Warzer, who revitalized the former carpenter shop, painted in beige and filled with sawdust, into a vibrant and magical place. Her first and defining canvas, was painting walls of aquamarine and white. The white walls provide a backdrop and a home to the artwork at the pop up gallery, for the constant stream of artists who exhibit their art. 

This marvelous space is available to us all, and the hope is that it will bring us together as a community.

Tracy, an artist and an art therapist, believes community is best built through the universal language of art. Last winter, I had the wonderful opportunity to share my photography in an exhibit entitled “Color, Beauty and Community.” I experienced first hand what is at the core of her philanthropic mission - to feel connected with my community.

Tracy believes in approaching life with the faith that we can transform ourselves. If we can “use a highlighter in our life” to remember what is really important, focus on the good, and take steps by doing what we can “then we can elevate ourselves.” She has discovered through her profession, that when one can find connectedness, then we can make a change for the better within ourselves. This feeling of personal connectedness can, in turn, be an agent for change and help heal our communities. Her studio provides a place which encourages artist to take risks, and to be visible with their gifts in the world. They can share their story with others. This creates a tremendous sense of value to an artist, it is a transformative experience.

Tracy says “art is the language of the heart.” Art provides opportunities for people to share their ideas about things, it “brings people together with a deeper understanding” and offers a “common ground unlike anywhere else. People can convey the unexpected and there is no judgment, because each individual’s perspective is personal and unique and through art there is no wrong. Therefore, there can be an exchange between people and that creates something beautiful.”

Tracy feels honored to witness each artist’s evolution while creating art or preparing to exhibit their art in her gallery. CAS provides an environment for emergence to happen, and from the unexpected coming into form, healing and joy are experienced. Tracy is available to explore ideas with, and she enjoys the creative process and conversations that ignite, as new artists exhibit. She bears witness to how the artist creates their exhibits. Her role is to guide, to mentor and to inspire.

Tracy and The Creative Arts Studio’s core value is that by creating something beautiful and meaningful, and having a chance to share it, one can become empowered. There is power in art and the impact that it can have to heal and bring people closer together. It is her mission to bring change into the world through cultivating and offering a place for others to be valued.

I believe, we all desire and yearn for a place to gather and to relate to others, to ease our heart aches, to inspire us, to expand our universe a little bit wider every day, and to call community. It is with deep gratitude that I would like to say thank you! Thank you to Tracy, who offers us all a place to feel lighter in spirit and to be connected.

A Desire to Photograph

Summer

Years pass, many years and many things change in the world and in my tiny universe too, but what has always remained the same lure, the same enticing strand that keeps pulling me back, is the light of the Hamptons. I’ve come to rely on the Hamptons as a place of inner retreat. I have been a frequent visitor since I was ten years old, that’s now 38 years. It’s longer than any place I’ve ever known and I’ve therefore watched it change over the years. 

I remember when the dawn would break and I would look outside and for miles I could see fields, wide open fields, the potato fields of the south fork. The sky, filling with colors, like a painters palette. Painted in a water color world of blues, light pinks, subtle yellows. I used to be able to see the edge of the ocean, ever so slightly from Down’s Path in Southhampton where my parents reside. This is where, I remain a welcomed visitor and guest.

Over time, as all know, very large houses and tall hedges have overtaken the landscape in Southhampton. It takes a lot longer in the morning to see the sunrise and the full moon rise. We used to run from the kitchen, in the early evening, run out like children chasing after the ice cream truck, to see the huge white summer moon rising over the horizon line. We don’t get to see it until it’s high in the sky now, our neighbor’s trees towering over our yard, some thirty feet into the air.

Times at Flying Point Beach, where I collect rocks and sink my bare feet into the sand, and watch the waves countless lap after lap are always precious to me. The time at the beach reminds me that I am mortal. I’ve walked every season on the sands of the beaches. In below zero temperatures to the summer heat waves of August. I collect the small rocks, put them in my pockets and keep them as reminders that I am grounded when I visit out east. So many worries in life wash away, sometimes for just an hour, sometimes for days if I permit myself to really unwind. 

....wrote an entire book on the magic light, the golden hue of twilight. It is true, just before sunset, the entire ocean is painted in gold. One turn to the west from Flying Point Beach and the marshes, the pine needles, the single heron flying overhead are painted in gold too. Dripping in the golden light that last only a moment. The white of the waves breaking on the beach turn into a pure white, reminding me of fresh whipped cream. The horizon of the ocean, ever beckoning, always humbling me. I will not live forever, no one will.

I think to myself, when I’m gone, I would like my children to take my ashes and ceremoniously throw them out to sea, out to the horizon of the Atlantic ocean at Flying Point Beach. I have danced in these waves for so many years. I’ve watched a ninety-five year old woman escorted to the ocean’s edge. So sure am I of her delight in the lifetime of memories of the waves greeting her feet.