I have no energy nor time to recap what I have missed since my last entry. I’ve begun painting after almost 2 months. It feels good to get started again. It also feels good to know my foggy brain and lethargy is a result of recovery, not a personal flaw. As always I will paint my way through the end of 2020, the meeting of Jodie, the loss of Zyra, the adoption of Luci, the relapse of Sunday and the loss of latex paint to the below zero temperatures that have seemingly vanished without a trace. I am full of many feelings and yet still struggle to express them in words. I will thus express them in paint. Art for me is not just a career, it’s not just a business or a job. Art is so much more than that. It is a lifetime. I have to paint. As long as I have life in my body, I will make art. And as long as I can make art, I will have life in my body.
The exposure of oneself can be the validation of another.
I’ve written many times before about the balance between happenstance and refinement, but I think ultimately what becomes the most important aspect is how to know when to stop. When the initial energy has been preserved and the loose ends tied up just enough so that the existing marks maintain their individual voices with the overall composition. I’ve begun to slow down the process, think of each color, each pigment, each material and hone in on what they are saying on their own in addition to the relationships they have with each other on the surface. Many a time I have felt I overdid or overworked a piece. And yet at the same time enjoyed that sense of clutter and density of surface play. Each painting has its story, its capture of moments and memories, its energy of creation and representation of self in that moment. Much like each day has its possibilities separate of what has been and what will be.
One day at a time is a mantra not just applicable to my sobriety, but to the way I look at life. Each day becomes an opportunity to be better than my previous self. The next question becomes where to go from here. I have completed the last of the fabric that will fit on the 70″x70″ frame and now have the decision of whether to think sewing or think smaller.
I say keep creating because it can mean anything. Baking a sourdough loaf, mending a torn pillow, growing herbs on the windowsill of your studio apartment – okay I did get a little personal there. Creating instead of destroying. Building bridges instead of walls.
The soil is set for spring,
seedlings peek out from
the moisture of absorbing peat moss.
The sun shines bright in the piercing blue sky,
clouds scattered about like
translucent fabric sewn into the air.
Flowers spread color for miles.