It is now officially summer. Winter seemed too long and Spring went too fast.
I rested through the winter and spent spring starting new paintings. My mind is spinning questions looking for answers. I take a break and work in the hot garden with it’s racket of bird song, listening for guidance from living things.
How do I make my creativity come into the world in a way that keeps it as a gift but also supports me?
As, if on cue the black spider shows herself among the wilting flowers. Dancing her thin legs into a web weaving lesson about building a thing of beauty to survive.
It was just a few months ago that I left my job with my heart beating and blinking the first snow flakes off my eyelashes. I knew that eventually, I would be faced with figuring out how to weave my art back into my life and spin it in such a way that it will pay.
I’m afraid of spiders. This spider terrifies me. She is dark, unpredictable and possibly dangerous. Ok… probably, not that dangerous. She is also magnificent in her art. Her beautiful web glistens in the sunlight. She has faith, sitting still waiting for the summer breeze to feed her a feast.
I too am building a web of sorts.
I use my brush to anchor threads of vermilion and amethyst onto canvas corners. I’ve been dancing my fingers over keyboards trying to learn the tools of social media and putting words to my paintings. All in hopes that I might weave my ethereal images into the ether wires that will create pixel versions of my paintings. That is a pretty way of saying… I’m trying to build this website.
I’m not sure yet… exactly what my web will look like.
There are times when my artist life feels unpredictable and possibly dangerous. There are no weekly paychecks going direct deposit and sometimes I feel concern about the frightening labels stamped on my tubes of paint warning about toxic colors.
I distract myself by imagining rewriting the warning labels…
WARNING: Use caution with intense color. May cause heart beating and eyes blinking. Known by some to have a powerful mysterious affect. Artist is responsible for results.
With fear and faith, I leave the garden, go up the stairs, down the hall, to my small studio and open the windows to the summer breeze.