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.
About the art: a board covered in black gesso, with multiple sketches and value studies on top. None of them were just right. So I grabbed the rubber wedge, the oil paint, the chopsticks and let the cosmos begin to reorder itself right in front of my eyes. My first real grid composition - something I told myself I would not like. And then I did. Oh.