I left painting behind in my 20's and turned to freelance and short story writing for thirty years, then art called to me again - I'd become an RN in my forties and writing became charting - bare bones, pardon the expression.
No imagination allowed. Observations and accountability only.
It was a stretch and a prison at the same time for someone used to freedom of expression.
Painting became therapy. I was free to play again. Writing is getting in the flow which is fun and work Painting is never work. Time disappears. Colours flow, shapes form -a blank canvas, a forgotten scrap of wood, a sheet of aluminum - become Something. that was never in the world before. Magic. I love it.
Learning to draw and design is the challenge, and always, because I am a writer at heart as well, I see the story in the painting, the life metaphor that is always expressed whether or not we are aware of it.
Our family lost our beautiful 33 year old daughter last year to mental illness. The sadness is always there but the gratitude for all the joy she brought is there as well, We celebrate family near and far, treasure our moments together.
I have faith that this life is not all there is. In an infinite universe there are infinite possibilities for all forms of energy, visible and invisible. We paint and energy moves through us. The act of creation is not a solitary journey but an invitation to be open to the universe. Paintings have their own soul - we are the messengers.