After a long period of artlessness, I had a strong urge to return to my art room late yesterday afternoon and paint. I took a brief break to walk Max and have a bite to eat, and worked well into the evening. Since I rise early each day to walk Max and begin my day, I try not to stay up too late, but it was almost midnight when I put down my paintbrush. I was playing a lot of country and bluegrass music, which must have made its way into the painting that resulted. I had absolutely no intention when I began this piece except to keep my brush moving and play with texture and color, so I was surprised to step back and see the finished piece, with its barnlike colors and feel. The evening flew, and I felt exhilarated to have finally broken through my inertia of the past few months. I cannot wait to get home tonight and paint again.
When I thought about it, I was surprised to find, if I really asked myself what took so long, that there was an underlying fear about returning to my art. What if I have no inspiration? What if I just can't do it? What if it's bad? All the old fears fell away when I just decided to move the brush and let go of thinking about it so much.
Wind: 16 x 20 mixed media painting: acrylics, spackle, tissue, & found objects on canvas
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