The Weirdest Winter

In my previous post, I explained my impetus for painting (having never taken any classes or had any formal training in it). That was in the middle of November. Three months later and I've just had my first show at a local gallery. Right timing, right circumstances, right people to know, and my desire to try something different...that's really how it all came about. 

The painting remains therapeutic. Primal, even, where I am simply obeying an internal instinct that says "this color here" or "this shaping there." Some have turned out pretty good (in my personal opinion); plenty of others have turned out to be hot garbage, which I then repurpose into a new painting with new features and traits. Each layer of color reveals something new about the final product and I rarely ever know what it will look like when I'm done, which I very much enjoy. Much like in writing, I find that the best work I do is the work that surprises me when I'm creating it. If I am surprised by it, surely others will be as well. And for now, that is enough. 

We had close to 100 people show up to the gallery and I sold 4 pieces (across 8 canvases), both of which are fantastic numbers that exceeded my expectations. I put 35 pieces (on 43 canvases) on three walls and still had to bring several back home because they wouldn't all fit. On its own, I call that a massive success as I'm happy with everything I wanted to display. I have a couple friends who have picked up the hobby again due to my posting my efforts across social media, and that is no small thing; it's been incredibly hard most of us to create anything at all during this COVID nonsense. The heaviness of life has a way of tamping down the flight of creativity before its ever left the ground. 

You'd be forgiven for thinking that all this means that things are going better for me currently. In some ways they are. In many, they are not. My focus remains spotty and hard to get a grip on. My drive for most things has been diminished or snuffed out completely. There is little that brings legitimate pleasure my way right now...but this will pass sometime. 

For now, I've completed 66 pieces of art that I am beyond pleased with having created. I have to believe that this is where my writing muse has pointed me. Perhaps she got wrung dry and is pawning me off to another muse who gets drunk on colors and shapes and corners and shadows. I'm not mad about it, but I wish the writing muse would return. I have projects still at play in her work space and I feel like I'm locked out of that particular room. 

I'm sure some of this heaviness stems from the usual winter blues and I'm sure that heaviness will lessen its density sooner than later, but for now I manage it and hope that each new project becomes just another step forward. 

Here are just a few of my personal favorite pieces that I've completed since my last post in November: 

"A Gift (of Music)" - 24 x 48

"Fable's Deep" - 24 x 48

"Grief (with Silver Lining)" - 18 x 18

"No Requests" - 24 x 48

"Riot #1"

"Riot #4"

"Secrets" - 24 x 48

"Thatchings #1"

"The Afternoon Electric"

"Winter Flora"

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