Evolution

Hamburger - unfinished
1 of 4 in a collection tentatively named
No Calorie Fast Food

Sometimes it looks like my evolution as a painter will take as long as the Darwin type of evolution.  My "studio" sits in the corner of the room meant to be the living room of this house.  However, I've commandeered it and made it into my office, painting studio, jewelry studio, music room (with the recent gift of a piano) and even bedroom.  These days my art table serves as a "nightstand" where I lay my cell phone each night while it recharges.

My finished paintings surround me in this room like my children.  I look at them and wonder at them.  Like Erkel of Family Matters, I ask, "Did I do that?"  I look at prolific painters' works online and wonder how they do it.  How do they produce painting after painting each one amazing and in great enough numbers to support themselves and, in many cases, a company comprised of many others who work to advance their work product?

I look at my art corner every day when I wake up and vow I will spend some time there that day.  Then, that night, I lie down and wistfully look at my paint brushes and paints, sighing as I roll away from them and go to sleep.

My loved ones and I were so amazed when I started painting about 10 years ago.  In the beginning, there came a point where I knew I had to have an easel to paint on.  Until then I had been painting with the support lying on my art table.  One day soon after I got my easel, I was sitting at it painting something and Armando, my husband of over 20 years, stepped into the room.  I still felt very shy about painting in front of other people as I was still getting used to the idea I could even do this.  He paused just inside the doorway and I looked up at him.  I know we had the very same thought which was that after 20 years together, when you think you really know someone, here was a scenario that neither of us had ever imagined--me sitting at an easel painting a picture.  As has been so common down through my years with him, we connected on this thought without saying a word and, then, we had a good laugh.  The Grateful Dead lyrics, once again, were very appropriate, "What a long, strange trip it's been."

So, here I am another 8 to 10 years down this path.  I basically believe we make time for what's important, ergo, there's no excuse for not doing what one claims to want to do.  I find myself, "wanting" to paint but not finding the time or spirit to do so.

Then, yesterday afternoon, I finished up my paying job at the computer with the last project expected by a client on its way via email and I turned toward my art corner.  After months of staring at the black and white checkerboard design on this canvas and failed attempts to replicate a hamburger thereon, I sat down for less than 15 minutes and got done what you see above.  It's almost as magical as that childhood story where the elves come into the cobbler's shop at night and make the shoes.  All evening, I kept returning to my art table unable to believe that I had made such progress and wondered how to make it happen again.

So, I thought I would record this for posterity.  That's why I blog here and on Stream of Consciousness, for posterity.  Someday my children or grandchildren or great grandchildren might wonder about me and in these two venues, I will have recorded myself for them to get a glimpse of.  Pretty cool.

Anyway, I decided to make this entry because I'm convinced that this painter is still alive and kicking somewhere in here and I take heart that all those paintings still rattling around in my head might actually find their way onto canvases.  We can only hope.