I know this blog is suppose to be about art and how I see it.....but lately it has been about family and death. To me, I somehow have intertwined the two...without family I don't have art, without art I push the family away. This is a dark place to be and anger is ever present for whatever reason and for none at all. I do not wish to be an angry person, but it is where I am.
I am told to just paint...find a brush and canvas and just paint. It is so hard, nothingness is hard to compete with.....but I must do something to break this cycle. I set up the easel and for days I sat in front of it as if something would reach out and grab me. I set up the paint pans, the brushes, the light, the whatever next because nothing was happening. Just pretend. They say to pretend until it happens. I wasn't sure it would but I kept going there.
So I painted. I painted over anything that reminded me of another time. I subdued my colors, I knocked out any recognizable images, I pretended to go through the motions and at some point I found a place to be. I found the zone of unsolicited movement. It just happened. The final product is wishful, misty, quiet, maybe a place I am longing to be......but I painted and right now that is enough.
