art, health | Leave a note
I love to paint. Although this used to be a knitting blog, after brain surgery my left hand became hopelessly uncoordinated, and I could no longer knit. So I moved on to another creative pursuit: painting.
I love the earthiness of painting, the textures and colors, and the surprises that happen on the canvas as I work. Often I know the title of the piece before I even start painting. But this doesn’t seem to affect my process.
For instance, the abstract I’m finishing now will be called “The Long Road Home,” but there are no roads in it or even the suggestion of one. I don’t always understand the process that goes on between the canvas and me, but I love that uncertainty, that sense of discovery.
The painter Robert Genn wrote, “To me, making paintings is a doing thing, a communion with nature, an attempt to refine my own sensibilities and understand my processes, a lifelong puzzle of delight and a membership card in the Brotherhood and Sisterhood.”
Painting is something creative I can do, even with the physical limitations that cancer has left me with. When I paint, I feel like my spirit transcends the walls of my studio and connects me with people from the past, present, and future.
Everyone has limitations or parts of themselves they wish were different. My limitation is visible—an obvious lack of balance and coordination on my left side—so when I fall, I quite literally have to get back up and start painting again. But I do it because the canvas, the colors, and the creative life call to me.