Hi there readers. I’m sort of wordless today. I did make friends with my rosebush today. Turns out she is a great listener.
I wanted to share a link to a post a read on The Coffee Party website. They focus on discussing politics with civility and dignity. Have a fabulous day.
So on this ongoing knockdown I indulged myself in a one-on-one consultation with my beloved art teacher. Wish I had done this a lot sooner. Tons of food for thought. Quite literally had to go take a nap to mentally digest all the things we talked about.
I shared some of my fears, or perhaps negative self talk. 1) My paintings never seem to look “finished.” 2) My art work looks immature and amateurish.
The first thing she said was something to the effect of “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we all have these fears. Doesn’t matter how many years or decades you’ve been an artist.”She pointed out that I am a fast artist. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. As a result I tend to finish a painting way before class is over. Then I keep slapping paint on top of it because I think I should still be doing so.
Point 2) my work looks immature and amateurish. She pointed out that the particular class I’m in, most of the women are doing very tradition work. Landscapes, portraits of grandchildren, pets, etc. If I compare my work, which is pretty abstract, to the work of others in my class I see that it’s different. I’ve been making the mistake of thinking that different equals bad. She pointed out that my fears on this regard are pretty common also.
So this is a lot to contemplate while I remain in seclusion because of this Covid lock-down. I feel lucky that I have room to work at home. However, I need to get off my butt and take advantage of it.
So happy Saturday to all of you. I hope you’re staying sane and safe during this rather bizarre time in human history.
Greetings all on this beautiful Tuesday. I woke up on the right side of the bed today and everything seems wonderful. It feels marvelous to be regaining my health.
So it occurred to me when answering a comment on a previous post that the act of writing is painting with words. Back before all the pandemic adventure I announced to my teacher in class on day, “when I’m painting a picture I’m telling a story. When I’m writing a story I’m painting a picture.” Just kind of blurted it out. Didn’t quite sink in at the time how important and personal the concept was.
Since my art teacher can’t hold classes, we’ve been corresponding via e-mail. I expressed that I felt that I was just being a silly old women with an expensive hobby. She pointed out that my art was part of who I am, whether I’m actively painting or not. Also that viewing my painting and writing as a “hobby” kept it separate from myself as a trivial activity that I could drop at anytime, instead of being an important part of myself.
So without further adieu, here is a painting I’ve been working on. It’s an unfinished work in progress. The title is Turbulence. It’s reflects my life recently which has indeed been rather turbulent. I won’t go into details at this time, just believe me it has.