Difficult

     It is November 5th now. I am about two months into my school year of painting. Almost finished withe the first 4' x 6' canvas. The first month was so glorious! I was so thrilled to be in the space, in the studio, in the old building, on it's old stage with it's heavy, loose-seamed stage curtain, with big windows on either side of the stage, wide open and an Indian summer breeze moving through the room. Lunching in the cemetery in the grass, laying on a sweater and taking some time to read "The Artist's Spirit" by Robert Henri and close my eyes. Or taking a break to walk to the chocolate shop for a marshmallow. And every part of the painting I approached, I was able to puzzle out. Sometimes taking a couple of tries with different techniques, but figuring it out and feeling really satisfied by what was happening. So pleased, that I fell in love with the painting and missed it when I was away, excited to be with it again. Excited to see what I would do next and how it would evolve.
   Then I painted the door. Then I painted it again. And again. I layered, I wiped, I glazed, I mixed paint, I mixed new paint, I covered, I coated. It's not right. It's still not right. The door is the final piece and all that is left to finish this painting. Repeatedly failing to come up with a result I wanted  took the wind out of my sails.
   At the same time, I started a 21 day commitment to exercise and eat right. Dropping Desmond off at school and then returning home to do a daily 30 minute workout, then shower and eat and pack a lunch and snack. Inevitably, I would check my email, Facebook and Pinterest and get stuck in my own personal Internet trifecta that cycles like a whirlpool and spins me round and round until I am dizzy and too much time has gone by and would you look at that, it's time for lunch. I may as well eat at home instead of packing it up and eating it at the studio. By the time I got there, I only had three hours instead of the 6 I'd have if I had gone straight away.
   Today is the first day in a couple of weeks, that I got myself out of the house with Desmond at 9 am, to walk him to school and continue on to the studio for a full day of painting. Dreading it, really. Not sure how it would go. Feeling like I am not able to paint what I want to, that it's not working. But knowing the only way through to the other side of this painting is to wade through the muck of it. That indecision and ineptitude. Maybe I'll learn something. Maybe I'll figure it out. Maybe I won't. But not doing it is not an option. So off I go.
   Now the windows stay closed and the heat is on but it is still chilly. I am on my 4th audio book. I am antsy and restless. I have a routine. Setting up when I get there, cleaning up when I go. Some of the mystery is gone, the newness has worn off. But the process is always a mystery to me. Lately, it's a struggle. Enjoying the process when things are going well is easy. But when things are not going well, it is hard to remember why I am there. All I can focus on is getting the painting right. Having it be just right. Not exact, not perfect, not mind-blowing but just right. And right now, it is not just right. It's like going for a run with a pebble in my shoe. And I can't get it out.
   So, for now, the first painting is put aside. A new canvas is in place and I will go back now and start to sketch out number two. And maybe tomorrow will go smoother. I am nervous I won't be able to get this one right either. I'll my time, take deep breaths, and refocus my attention on enjoying what I'm doing. Just being in the moment and trusting myself.
   I guess today was a success. I did what I wanted to do. It's all okay.
   I hope I can get back into the swing of joy. I feel like I got thrown off my horse. That's alright. Me and my horse go way back. She'll come around.
  

Painting Number One. The Door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Painting

     It is just my third full day at my studio space in town. I came a couple of times to drop things off, to set things up, hang plastic, unwrap the first three canvas, hang signs that say things like, “Artist working on stage. Please do not enter.” I am sharing the space with the boy scouts, who play basketball on Tuesday nights and a Taekwondo class that meets here a few afternoons a week and Saturday mornings. The first day I came to hang plastic to protect the walls and floor, the stage floor was covered in enormous, heavy red and blue rubber mats from the Taekwondo class. I dragged them, inch by inch, to the edge of the stage and then jumped down and pulled them off and onto the floor in a heavy, disorganized heap. I left a note for the Taekwondo guy, apologizing. But a girl’s gotta work when a girl’s gotta work. I think we have everything straightened out though. Now they know there is someone using the stage and that I will toss off whatever they put in my space. I imagine to them I am like a strange, protective bird who has built her nest nearby, unexpectedly. Don’t mess with my nest. I paid for this spot.
    I am only here from 9:00 till 3:00 during the week and no-one else is here then. I suppose if I came when a class was going on or a basketball game, I could listen to them play or get some good headphones and tune them out.
    So far, it is proving a little tricky to get here for the whole school day. Things come up. But I also think, now that I am set up and have begun to paint, I will find a rhythm and a schedule that works. This week, I spent Monday in the hospital with Joseph who had some surgery on his wrist. Tuesday I was not ready in time to walk Desmond to school and then walk to my space. So, I dropped him off and came back home and had breakfast and packed my bag. I got here by 10:00 and stayed till 3:00. Yesterday I went to the gym and then had to focus a little on working out getting some glasses so I can really focus on everything. And the day was gone. But today, I am here, I was able to walk Desmond to school and walk the extra two blocks over here. I am so close to his school, I can hear them playing outside at recess. I love this spot. I can walk here, it is quiet, it has such personality, this building. I eat my lunch in the cemetery which is right outside. Right now, I am sitting on a little wooden deck off a side door. I can hear someone talking nearby, some one hammering something a couple of blocks away, birds, crickets, and occasional car goes by. The sun is bright and warm today and there is a slight breeze. Heaven.
    Today, I secured this building to use for my birthday party too. How fitting. This November, I turn 40 and have been trying out and tossing aside all kinds of ideas on how to celebrate, But this one is best. So I will have a big birthday bash, in the same space I am painting. This way, my paintings can attend the party. And my paint.
    I had wondered what it would be like to be here, to be painting, to commit to a project like this, to spend time alone, away from my usual list of things to do. It is lovely, really. I remind myself to relax. My usual mode is a slightly panicked and rushed. Must hurry. Quick, before I run out of time. I feel that come over me here and I remind myself to take my time. No rush. And I breathe. And drop my shoulders and smile and I take my time. My time.
    Taking time with the painting takes some of the pressure off too. I am thinking carefully about what I am doing, what to do next, trying things out. So far, it is going smoothly. I think I had a little bit of a bumpy take-off, remembering how to paint. It’s like I'm making it up every time. And then I think, oh yeah, that’s how that works.
    I got here today and started to work. I am working on one painting so far. The image of the open door. Looking, mixing color, layering, glazing, wiping away, brushing on, cleaning and smudging edges. I had lunch in the cemetery again. Then laid on my back in the grass, in the sun and read a little of Robert Henri’s, The Artist Spirit. I’ve never read it before. I hate to read more of it, the first pages are so brilliant and match my sentiments about art so exactly, I feel the more I read the more chance I will disagree with something or be disappointed. But, bravely, I will read it all. Like painting, I love this perfect beginning, when everything is right and going so well and the sky is clear for take off and it’s a beautiful day. Not knowing if there are storms ahead and what will happen next. But quite possibly, the book will be just right beginning to end and maybe this school year of painting and these 6 paintings will be just right too. The only way to find out is to go ahead and read. Go ahead and paint. Was it Woody Allen who said something like, 99% of doing anything is just showing up. To be present for the possibility of something great. That’s what I am doing. It is joyful. I am so grateful.

 

Work begins.

Color match.