To begin is hard. It is slow and in some cases can take years and years of trying at beginning before I actually allow myself to begin. But, then it happens! I just begin. I don’t know exactly how this happens, it just does. Maybe somewhere inside the subconscious keeps a tally of just how much I want or desire something. And, when I arrive at a confidence level or a position of complete acceptance and love of self the psychology of my inner world ignites some kind of reaction and the sound of “YES” rings throughout my being. “Yes.” whispers to me, ’The time is now. Begin!”
Is it failure or thoughts of possible failure that keep me locked inside a box without a key. This way I don’t have to be responsible for creating my dreams. I don’t have a key therefore I don’t have to paint. It is I who gives up on the chance to explore parts of me. I am responsible for stopping my dreams from becoming a reality. By not doing I don’t do anything to create opportunities to know myself more completely. And yes failure might be part of the journey but it is only part of it. Failure at something new inevitably is part of the exploration.
Success. Failure. I am not sure why I get so tangled up in the idea of one or the other being positive or negative. Focusing my energy on either, when creating and sharing art, should not enter into this art equation. I cannot roll my entire life up into one moment or one piece of art and say - I failed - I succeeded. When I call myself failure or winner then I limit the creative source inside me. Ego rules me when I am stuck in succeeding and failing mode.
Slowly, I have learned to let go of any attachment to labels, and me, and art. Instead I accept and embrace the confidence I feel while suspended in spontaneity that surfaces each and every time I begin.
I bought some canvases back in September of 2015 with the intention of my son Alexander and my husband Mel joining me in exploring the use of paint, brushes and possibly mixed-media on canvas. Two attempts at gathering the three of us together when my son was home for a few days during family holidays amounted to a big zero.
I was disappointed, no doubt, that this adventure was not a reality for us to share. This has been a very long-standing goal of mine to reach - all three of us painting together and perhaps creating some wall hangings for Alexander to take back to Vancouver for his apartment; symbolic of a time we shared together.
This creative sharing did not come around this time but I will not let go of this goal or dream until it is realized - one day soon I hope.
I was forced to look further at my own dream and desire to pick up a paint brush, dip it into some paint and commit to the canvas with a mark that was mine. Did I want the support of others to make this dream a reality? Did it not become a reality because my sub-conscious said, “NO! You need to do this on your own.”
I have talked and rambled and doubted and complained and rambled for years about using brushes, paint and canvas. In January of 2016 I just did it. I don’t know how it happened but as is with everything with me I must have been ready to allow myself this joy.
My son, Alexander has completely taken me off guard and for some reason is imploring me to continue in this direction. Maybe he knows something I don’t. Maybe my paintings made him feel something on a deep level of knowing. I trust my son. I listen to him - always. He says he can see these two first paintings of mine in a David Lynch movie. He saves his favourite as his AppleWatch face and shows his friends and colleagues his mother’s canvases. I am honoured beyond any possible honour that my son embraces my painting.
If I didn’t begin, if I didn’t pick up a brush and make my mark on canvas I would miss out on exploring this part of my relationship with my son. What a surprising effect, this courageous act of mine, to try at using paint, has developed into something I can share with my son.