I am glad those days are over – those waiting days. No longer do I wait for some grand inspiration to strike me upside the head. No longer do I wait for a significant soul to coax me into painting. No longer do I wait for the perfect day, hour or minute to begin creating something new or finishing something from days ago. I’m not going to wait for “the dial tone” that ensures someone out there is listening to my heart that creates art.
I am going to paint today because it is my purpose for being alive today. I feel good that I have a purpose, and at the end of the day, when the sun sets and the lights go out, hopefully I can say I made something good.
Long after the rotary phone started collecting dust, but not really that long ago, I struggled with myself more . . . asking if it was enough to create art. That soul-sucking thought creeps in when I am weak, but most days it is held back by the unexplainable and simple joy I feel when I am in my studio.
No longer can I wait to get in there and see what happens.
Call and come see me sometime, but please don’t wait for the dial tone – regardless of what your purpose is today.
In the beginning there is a desire to paint, to create something beautiful.
With that desire, there is always some level of fear to be conquered, because the voice of self-doubt can easily step in and take over.
Fortunately, I start simply with something called “ground,” and ground it does. It’s so much more than a primer that sets a good base for what comes next. It actually grounds me to my painting. The mere act of applying white all over the surface says to me, “you can do this.” It sets the stage. It opens the door. It not only allows, it welcomes each stroke that follows.
So it only makes sense to start writing on this new website at the beginning – a white page that welcomes thought, honestly and without fear, not sure of what comes next, knowing only that I want to create something beautiful to read – to open a new door so that you can get to know me and my art, because it’s time to share more than the finished painting.
Join me on this artistic journey in oil and cold wax . . . and words.
Last Sunday was an epic day for watching sandpipers skitter along the water’s edge, stopping only for seconds to stick their beaks in the wet sand. Be still little guy…forever in oil and cold wax.