“Courage is the power to let go of the familiar.” -Raymond Lindquist

I feel a shift. 

I have been working on a new series of work. I have at least 6 paintings currently laying around in my studio in various stages. More ideas are scribbled in sketchbooks and many notes and photos have been  accumulating for references on my phone and computer. I have run around my town shooting places and people and I thought I knew where I was going with this new series. 

But… I feel a shift. 

This has happened before.  A restlessness that what I am doing is not enough.  That my time at the easel is spent spinning my wheels.  Oh yes, I do not know exaclty where my art is headed sometimes. 

My son-in-law is a sailor. And the dexterity one needs to control a sailboat amazes me. I have been onboard a large sailboat that he has flat-out skimmed at full speed across the water, dashing over thousands of jellyfish, causing my hair to whip around my face and I have also seen him maneuver the sails to quietly slide the behemoth gently up against a dock.  

It is a series of slight shifts. Adjustments and corrections. The pace both fast and slow. 

So it is with my paintings. Somedays I am hell- bent on success and it works.  4 hours fly by and I can almost feel my hair whipping around. Some days are quiet and tiny marks are all I can generate to sculpt,  carve and create. But lately I sense a need to shift beyond what I already know. 

I feel a change in the air. I am not sure if it is my age and I no longer stress over what other people think or…..nope….. yeah, I think that’s it. I know I don’t care as much what other people think anymore. 

Its a beautiful thing. I used to hear my grandmother say that she had lived long enough (into her nineties) that she had earned the right to say whatever was on her mind.  (and trust me, sometimes it was not pretty) But it was authentic.  It was who she was. 

My art is who I am. I have known it since I was very tiny and just beyond being able to read. And as I have gotten older and painted and learned and painted some more I still have this niggling feeling in the back of my skull that I have to please others- that I have to have their approval. 

But now my restlessness is my own. It is a search for authenticity in its purest form. And sometimes I don’t know exactly what that looks like, so I am course-correcting. Adjusting my sails. Gently sensing the wind. 

I had a good friend tell me once that although he liked my kintsugi paintings, he could not wait to see what I would do after them. 

Yeah, me too.  

But I’m not worried that I don’t know exactly where I am going. Or exactly how to get there.  I just know I will find my compass and the wind will pick up again and then it will be smooth sailing. 


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