"Fragile"

I've lived through hard moments that left me feeling fragile, and I feel the world is unfair and doesn't make sense.  Those lessons come back to me when I see another person struggling with their problems.  Just yesterday I said "Talent doesn't necessarily win" and the young lady I was speaking with fervently agreed, glad someone else recognized her struggles.  Helping her with tips I've painfully learned along the way makes the universe more rational for both of us.

"Fragile" is just a step in the tempering process.  Anyone who feels, tries, fails, fears has felt fragile at some point, but if we push through and find a way to succeed at the other end we're better than we were before we faced those challenges.  The people who faced struggles before us often want to help those following in their footsteps.

My original intent with this blog was to talk about art and share things I've learned.  I didn't realize I'd end up talking about so many other things or that I'd feel so disconnected from my creative process that it felt a lot like being stuck in a bad marriage.  I've had bad experiences both with art and marriage and I didn't want to put in any more hard work into either.

Sometimes people talk about the creative muse, but creative people seldom admit when their muse deserts them.  Of course that creative spark is who we are and somewhere within ourselves, but sometimes I just don't feel like doing it.  It's painful, like wanting to be kissed or held but feeling so afraid of hurt because I've been hurt before that it's just easier to push that person, or the art, away.

I've been painting.  The original idea was to gift a visual joke, but in the process I decided to make a real painting.  It's big for me, 2' x 4', acrylic on unstretched, gessoed canvas.  I've been giving the intended recipient clues about what I've been up to, so I can't show you the whole thing yet because that would spoil the surprise.  Besides, it isn't done so I really can't show you, but I'll let you in on clues I've been dropping along the way.

It's the first time in a long time that I've felt love in painting.  I feel there is magic in my fingertips, I'm a conduit of zen flow, and "I'm the best!" euphoria.  That's phase 1 of a relationship when the other person is everything you ever wanted.  Phase 2 kicked in when I saw it wasn't working and I had to either scrub the canvas or start over or put away the art supplies.  In this case, I scrubbed the canvas and repainted.  Even that feels good.  I'm not willing to settle for less than what my heart wants to express and what's within my ability to do.

Too often art on blogs is seen in a flash of a post or two.  This painting is taking time, and it's time that makes everything in life better.  The sky is bluer, inspirations surround me.  I've really missed it.  It's like sleeping in an empty bed for so long that you've forgotten how necessary it is to cuddle, but then someone touches you and you long to be touched.

The young lady I talked with yesterday is a musician.  I saw the love in her face when she talked of her music.  Her longing woke a sleeping part of me and I saw myself more clearly than I have in a long time, and realize how fragile I've felt in this part of my life.  Painting the last couple of weeks has been leading me to understanding that moment of realization, which is all part of why I need and love to paint.