The Artists Way

I am on the run from myself. Each day packed with tasks, missing library books, last minute chaffering, play dates and kids school events. Valentines Day is here and I haven't thought of it yet, but for a dinner out and kisses this morning. The weekend looks open and I search for people to commit myself too, while at the same time wanting to curl up in a ball and pretend I can't hear anyone.

If I had time, I would want to . . . MAKE ART. I have been thinking a lot about visual arts lately. Two weeks ago at Wednesday's open studio, I pulled out my good old set of Golden brand acrylics. I have had these paints for 15 years, costing more then the classes I took when I first used them in.  Over the years I passed them to others for their classes, switched and repurchased all the colors in oil and now find myself fingering Cad Yellow and Burnt Umber on our large wooden table.

My therapist assigned me the task of making two paintings, one of what inadequacy looks like and the other of ME as adequate. I fiddled with colors and select apples and oranges to replicate, because I can't commit to the project. I scribble and scrawl ideas, but make no attempt at imagining myself Whole. Sitting in my chair across from the Dr. two weeks later with my scribbled chaos of inadequacy, explaining that I can't make a picture, it came to me that what I could paint was a room. The image so clear is of a dark grey drippy cement walled Artist Studio, with nothing in it but a table. It looks dark and drab and I think out loud of how depressing this seemed, but am offered the insight that it is empty, void of distraction, of people, SAFE.

Of course  now that I can see this space, I want to build it out of the corner in my basement, the one now used as a pre-school. The idea is for a safe space to be, without others or books or anything, no big bag of knitting to haul, just in case I am not enough.

My therapist said something about my needing to see myself, to paint as a way to look inside and seeing what is in there. I will keep trying to listen. He said, you can't be an inauthentic artist without hurting yourself. I sometimes feel in my running about for others, I am doing damage, getting smaller.

So I have a new goal, one of drawing myself every day, looking at my face, my hands, my view, anything, that allows me a window into who I am. I listen to the stories Moses and the Israelites in Exodus when they are building of the temple and realize how beauty and elegance are a part of honoring God. God created, requests things in his house be precious and this makes me feel some permission to also look at beauty, create with clay, wash with ink, clear away and redraw myself over and over.

And in this spirit, I am considering beginning another journey through the Artist Way. I have handed this book to so many people, because I love how it impacts my own listening and permission to make art. I want to engage in the discipline and faith of creating!