I don't know about you, dear reader, but I spend a lot of time ruminating and standing in the ruins.  Some of the habit of rumination can be attributed to introversion, being highly sensitive, having survived trauma and abuse.  But I believe a good portion of it is simply habit.  My brain falls into replaying conversations, and dissecting what went wrong instead of working on building the new empire. Wiest's words are part of a larger writing which begins with this: Your new life is going to cost you your old one.  Whoa.

And here we are - art imitating life, as the old paintings are obliterated by gesso and the new empire takes form on top of them. And again, whoa.

Art is visual storytelling.  Each painting has something to say, or to hide, or to shine a light upon.  These stories emerge from within - the stories the painter tells herself.  Whoa.

I find myself examining those inner stories recently.  The brain is a powerful tool, and the thoughts we think are mighty.  Artists are notoriously riddled with self doubt, imposter syndrome, criticism and anxiety about their work, their talents, their value and contribution to society. I've got plenty of that.  But if I see those thoughts, observe them and then ask myself what if I think THIS (or THAT) instead, they lose a bit of power and free up a space for bold adventuring without hesitation.

As this year begins to wane, I find myself asking what if I paint over everything and begin again? ​What does that story look like?  And my brilliant husband, an extraordinary and insightful artist, reminds me there is beauty in destruction, too.  So I begin, painting over, building the new on top of the ashes of the old, freeing space for bold adventuring.  Oh, oh, oh. Here we go.

And so, though here in the studio I'm  still exploring galaxies and worlds beyond, a momentary dive into portraiture and wistfulness seemed like just the thing.  She's a sweet spirit.  And she's got her eye on a spaceman emerging on a canvas across the room...:)