Today I picked up a paintbrush for the first time in more than a year. I can’t begin to describe the mix of feelings that have gone through my head and heart. I won’t even try to explain what has welled up. I do recognize some of the old, grippy, needy feelings artists sometimes have. Need for attention, need for recognition, need for accolades. Those feelings I’ll leave out on the curb with tonight’s pork chop trimmings. They just don’t serve me anymore. They’re not up-lifting – and, for once in my life, I just want to paint for the sheer love of it. Not because I’m trying to pay the bills with it. Not because I’m trying to compete.
The other feelings I had today – the love for the scent of the paint, the brain connecting with the eyes in a way it can’t when I’m knitting. The connectivity to place and moment. Those are the things I love, and have missed. The feeling of peaceful solitude. There is something about landscape painting that feeds this need to just touch and appreciate place. I guess it has something to do with being a military kid – something to do with moving around so much during my childhood.
Forgive me for the emotional blop…it’s just that I’m trying to process through this tangled mass of remembrances and emotions. Here is the work I painted today. Not a new image – I’ve painted this scene near my home before. But a new painting.