In the grips of a white canvas, possibilities hold me. Looking for a key to unlock the treasure hidden away to free myself. A sunset, a still-life, even a nude may hold it. A gift to myself awaits me with the opening of each painting. Finding my place in the world comes from an understanding of what I do not know, and is the gift every artist finds. Lifting a color to the bare white canvas begins the learning process.
The purplish grey banks of a stream or the pinks of a knee are not the treasure I'm seeking. A model sighs , a bee hums, stirring the moment of understanding as the first stroke of color appears on that white ground that I believe to be my soul. Each color, each stroke is turning the key to the lock holding my gift. Brush work takes on a meaning as the colors speak softly. I know the subject, but not the moment the understanding will come.
Excitement is followed by disappointment and doubt as the colors fall silent. My palette calls for a cleaning, the model needs a break, Henry needs a pat on the head. His dark eyes tell me to turn ever so slowly. A fresh brush with fresh colors gives a turn to the key, moving closer to unlocking the canvas and its treasure.
Painting is always about seeking truth. I take what is visible before me and reveal myself, both to the world, and to myself, through what I choose to see with each painting. I am there on the canvas, in the form of a landscape or standing proud as a still-life. Even the portrait of Kim is a self portrait. I believe it is that way for all artists no matter what form they paint in. A dancer with jazz dancing, while another picks up the clarinet, each revealing their soul.
My art has brought me to where I am in life. It has formed me, opened my mind to others, and even revealed a writer in me. The thinking that goes into a painting is the strengthening of the creativeness I desire, spilling over to other parts of my soul as I grow as an artist. How else to explain the peace I so enjoy? Pressure and stress have faded as the canvases have passed my easel. Tolerance of myself, I now accept.
