Moving is tough, more so when you learn the new owners don’t want any of the remnants the last owner left behind (which in our case includes a lot of unused house paint, among other things that are costly to dispose of). After an initial meltdown, many days of exhaustion/tearfulness, and no time made for the creative things that fuel me, I turned the garage into an impromptu studio and made this painting using some of the paint to be discarded. Lemons into lemonade.
I will treasure this as a piece that holds the many wonderful memories of the house we’re leaving and symbolizes where we are heading. The surface is quite rough and highly textured (largely due to the limited paint application tools and the viscosity of house paint), but even this seems metaphorically apt.
Celebrating my 50th birthday today in the most perfect way for the day, as required – packing boxes, taking out the trash, connecting with so many of the people I love, and painting.
This haiku was written in response to Paula Light’s Three Things Challenge, which you may read more abouthere.In short, the challenge is to produce a piece of creative writing by using the three words provided: pen, hummingbird, amulet.
I was especially inspired to participate in honor of my friend Tracy Crow, a beautiful creative soul who loves hummingbirds. The painting is an older one, made for another dear friend who loves hummingbirds. You might say this entire post has been fueled by the energy of friendship.
Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken made some, if not all the difference to me as a developing person. Rarely one to take the easy or expected path, I found Frost’s poem reassuring, even encouraging. But as I ponder now the various roads I’ve taken, I wonder whether I was destined to end up right here. Maybe all the fretting and deciding were superfluous egoistic illusions of control.
At a current crossroads in my life, I’m not surprised to see paintings with path imagery emerge. But I’m intrigued by the evident central path, significant to me in part because none of the paintings began with any thematic intention. Most typically, my paintings evolve organically, meaning they aren’t planned and often change – sometimes dramatically – as they are made.
I’m curious about this repeated theme, the one path. It’s almost as if my subconscious, maybe my higher self, is offering a reminder: “You’re on your path whether or not you can see where you’re going, worry is optional.”
For not the first time, I’m considering whether each of us has a predetermined path, sometimes called a soul path. This possibility doesn’t negate free will, which I believe we have. It’s more like being in a great river. We may choose to swim against the current or even to walk along the banks. But it’s probably easiest to stay in the water and go with the flow.
I am aware of making choices. At the same time, I feel I’m being led in a particular direction, even as I have little certainty about where that is or what waits for me beyond the next bend.
Do you ever feel this way? When you look back on your life, do you understand now where you were being led then?
The past week reminded me of My Many Colored Days, a lesser known Dr. Seuss book. The weather was highly variable. So was my mood. Both were predominantly gray, which is where the story departs from Dr. Seuss.
With that introduction, I hoped you might enjoy a representation of this idea in five paintings. The series was made on the same canvas over several days. The paintings are posted in the order of their making. To be clear, I didn’t paint over the earlier paintings because my mood changed. I just wasn’t happy with something about the painting. But considering how different they are, I’m almost certain they were influenced by both internal and external conditions, which varied considerably over the course of days.
Note: I’ve stopped with the final image because it feels like the most honest representation and works both right side up and upside down (as shown below). Perhaps a storm is brewing. Or, turned over, a brighter day is ahead. Both are always true. And wouldn’t life be much less interesting without our many colored days?
I plan to leave this painting unsigned, to turn it over as many times as I need reminders to accept and embrace my many colored days. Will you join me?
I’d also be glad to know which painting you like best 🙂
When someone asks good questions, we often discover new things about ourselves and gain insight by the chance to more fully articulate our experience. I am so grateful to have been interviewed for this amazing podcast – Accept Your Gifts – which encourages all of us to live our most creative lives. I’ve previously blogged about part 1. Here is a description and link to part 2.
In part 2 of this series, podcaster Tracy Crow, an author, writing coach, and Marine Corps veteran, talks with Amanda Reilly Sayer, a pediatric psychiatric nurse practitioner, about the “paintings I’ve pulled out of the fire…and some actually go in the fire!” As Amanda explains, “It’s a beautiful thing to be on your journey…and to watch someone grow.” She says that each painting also reminds her of the story behind the creation of each — its layers, imperfections, transparency. And, Amanda treats us with a reading of several Haiku poems!
You may find both part 1 and 2, along with other creatively inspirational interviews here. I hope you’ll check it out and let me know what you think!
I’m honored to have been interviewed for a podcast that encourages folks to live their most creative lives, an idea that will almost certainly resonate with other WordPressers.
In part 1 of this 2-part series, podcaster Tracy Crow, an author, writing coach, and Marine Corps veteran, interviews Amanda Reilly Sayer, a pediatric psychiatric nurse practitioner by day, to discover how and why she turns to painting, poetry, and photography. “It’s important to me,” she says, “to think about how I can inspire or offer gifts to other people…sharing the love, paying it forward.” In a frank discussion about emotional pain and healing, Amanda says grief and emotional pain can be transformed through creativity. The act of transforming, itself, is an act of creation, she explains. “Where are your wellsprings?” she asks herself and patients.