The Painting Spectrum - Stored Away

   Over the past few days, my emotions have been running at fever pitch. Memories of days gone by flooded my mind as I walked into my youngest daughter's apartment and I saw stacks of boxes that were packed with her children's books and toys. She is moving to a new residence by the end of June. The mission that my husband and I were on was to ease her burden by retrieving the very last of our stuff from one of her closets. She was storing certain things for us when we journeyed down South for a while and we were RV'ing with other people a few years ago. I thought we had more than just three boxes and an old trunk, which I call my treasure chest. This particular "chest" is two feet high, three feet long, and two feet wide. It's made of durable wood, has a decorative metal band around it, and is at least 100 years old. The locks have long since busted, and the hinges along the back are long gone as well. I obtained the trunk from a friend in Massachusetts well over 20 years ago. As rough as it is, this family piece of nostalgia has stayed with us and I still love it.

   When we opened it for the first time in over three years, I found paintings I did back in college, as well as ceramic vases. There are only three salvaged from a series of seven. I can still vividly remember painfully working on them - putting spikes on them one by one. Those ceramic works were representational of my defenses. I began with a blow fish and it's spikes. These vases morphed into water plants with spikes. Yeah - they were interesting...

   Over the years, through the numerous moves we've made, some the spikes have slow but surely broken off. My life parallels the life of those vases - my defensive walls have come down. I'm not as afraid of life as I was afraid of being hurt when I was younger. Experience and time has taught me not to fear. Everything always works out the way it's supposed to in the end. No matter how much we plan or strive with a situation - life dictates the outcomes. God is in charge, not me.

   As for the paintings in my treasure chest, one is of a model. I liked her and especially her hat. At the time, I was much younger and I didn't have the full grasp of how to paint her facial features in 3-D yet, so she's horribly flat with no expression. Other paintings were pieces from multiple decades; from realism to abstract. I have two photo journals of paintings and our family photos entwined. My treasure chest once again has a permanent place in my studio now. It's home where it belongs. One last surprise was finding eight blank boards, already with Gesso applied, ready to be painted on.

   Over the past few weeks, my left eye has been slowly healing from the major surgery I had at the beginning of the month. I wrote from time to time, about the gas bubble (yes - a real gas bubble) that was inserted into my eye to help close the hole that was in my macular. As I write this, that bubble has pretty much totally disappeared. My eyesight has healed. Therefore, I have no more excuses... I have to begin working again.

   I plan to alternate between writing, painting, and polishing over some older abstracts. There is freedom in passionate self-expression. My inner life is no longer stored away. I can see and appreciate the journey I've been on;
 - Learning my skill.
 - Honing my talents over the years by observing and copying other artists.
 - Then discovering myself - who I am really and what does painting mean to me.
 - Being set free from society and restrictions I put on myself.
 - Painting abstractly; playing with line, forms, and color.

   An older friend, (wiser too), said once, "Keep painting. It's what you were born to do. The world needs all the artists it can get."

   On that note,
   The Happy Painter,
   Jill