Oh hey, mid-january 2016. I don’t usually pick a “word” for the year, but there’s one that's stuck since about halfway through 2015... Grow. This same word is pretty clearly spilling into 2016 as I'm sure it will spill into next year and the next and the next until I’m a little old lady with osteoporosis.
Yesterday I walked into my studio and not even thirty seconds after stepping into the door…I thought of thirty different things that I neeeeeded to be doing other than being there. I wanted to leave. I couldn’t commit to that afternoon when so many other things were calling for my attention. I realized that this is the same lie I believe all the time. The lie that sets me running in circles preparing and over-planning rather than just doing what I’ve intended to do.
So I stopped, and I painted all afternoon. My inner self told my outer self, my body, my hands: “You’re going to paint, and then you're going to paint some more, and you’re not going to leave right now”...and that’s what I did, and it was the most nourishing three hours of my day.
I still get surprised when the fullest, most satisfying sensations get all up on me when I'm working. It feels like waking up, and someone is chipping away at the crustiness in me saying, "Be you and be here. There's something important about pushing these very pale colors around on this canvas. Don't stop." Not sure how long I'll be making work like this, but I've heard when you find the thing that wakes you up: keep. at. it.
I finished this piece (pictured below) that day. I had hated it for so long, thought I'd ruined it to a point of no return, but it turned around. What can't ya fix with some zinc white, titanium white, and cold wax medium? IDK. Problem solved. Painting resolved and at peace. It's called Water Fall, and it was purchased by a kind soul that I do not know.
There's something sweet and weird about other people taking what you make into their homes. It's like a tiny bit of me goes with them, and all of our stories get to blend together a bit.