April. How are we here, and not here- so long?
This year has its own inertia, its own chaotic ebb and flow that at times feels like it will spiral out of my control. “Why do you never speak?”
I have so much to say to you that I am afraid I shall tell you nothing.
We emerge, changed, wide eyed in the sudden sunlight. While I kept my studio space over the past year, I worked almost exclusively at home. The tides of productivity in my hands, heart and brain- unpredictable. Large scale paintings would flood out at the strangest times, in surges that wore me out afterwards. Small works, staccato, intermittent therapy.
Mostly, I felt like I was in the midst of Dry Salvages, in a contraction of creative energy. I still battle with feeling unworthy of the time to paint: undeserving the gift of time in the midst of obligation.
“For all is like an ocean, all flows and connects; touch it in one place and it echoes at the other end of the world.”
I began moving back into my studio two weeks ago. I’d been uncertain. I use my habits to maintain healthy inertia and work flow, and I am out of the habit of studio practice. Already an introvert, when I retreated to my home, those tendencies toward solitude swelled.
It felt really good to go in with some boxes and trash bags and get things cleared out and reorganized. I re-cleaned palettes that have sat, unused, for 13 months. I dusted paintings on lonely easels. I still need to mop, but for the first time in a long time, I feel free: lighter, unencumbered, joyful at having a dedicated space to create.
I began prepping for a solo show that had to be put off due to the pandemic, and I am finally finishing a batch of commissions that stalled out when the school year started.
It feels good to work.
I've been reading Demons, but I keep returning to the Brothers Karamazov for the truth and wisdom that burnishes a weary soul back to shining. Demons, like the Idiot, is a conceptual novel- driven by characters who represent ideas in parlor room dramas… but the Brothers K is like coming home. I find such hope in those pages: wisdom and mercy, and a keen understanding not only of what it is to be wholly human, but the sanctity of our human weaknesses that cause us to rely, beautifully, on humility, reconciliation, compassion, and love… and the one true source of those spiritual gifts.
As I roll up my sleeves in earnest, these lines “echo thus” in my mind:
“Be not forgetful of prayer. Every time you pray, if your prayer is sincere, there will be new feeling and new meaning in it, which will give you fresh courage, and you will understand that prayer is an education.”
To all things new, and to newly opened eyes: may we perceive our faults as blessings, and be patient with the faults we see in others. Cheers, to homecomings and happier times.
