10″ x 8″, acrylic on hardboard. Painted on location Peaceful Valley, 10/23/09.
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Went out at my lunch break to paint, and it was raining pretty good. But I figured I could paint from inside the car if I had to. Went back to the same point in P.V. where I have been going lately. Tried setting up under some tree limbs to paint another view of the river, but just too rainy, it would surely turn into a mess before I got done. So, back to the car, and I just painted while standing under the hatch, a view looking back towards the entrance to the shoreline.
Whatever you have in your heart to do, do it. That is all we have really, our dreams. The designs we impose upon life becomes our life.
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Let the spirit guide your hand as you paint, and you are set free.
Lean not on your own understanding, but lean upon her whisperings. At many points along the way as you are putting colors down, you will conclude, dismal, hopeless, what am I doing. But have faith! Don’t give into these voices of criticism, they are echoes of old earth, the last dying fragments of the age that passes away. Instead, learn to laugh and delight in caprice, in whimsy and why not, watch creation unfold under your brush.
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There is much I wish I could say, but it simply is not time yet. I write sometimes and then reflect over what I have said and feel my heart pulling back in some areas. Almost as if some voice from afar were guiding in ways that i cannot understand. Pushing and pulling colors around in word form, you place some thoughts down only to adjust that initial impression until the entire piece vibrates. It is this vibration you should seek after, that point in the expression where there is this little resonance that harmonizes with the author of Life. That is when art has power to heal. Maybe it is the same with words.
I think this “healing” I refer to may not be the best choice of terms. It is not so much healing the old, it is more like opening to the new. The healing is there to allow us to become open and receptive to love and touch, to become tender again, to tune into the Spirit of Peace in the wind. Perhaps art plays some part in this process, a kind of anchoring point for the human spirit that slowly softens our hard conclusions and turns them soft and supple. We are healed when we let go of every imagined truth and we simply become as we are, as He made us to be, alive, aware, in love and health, in abundance, in tears of joy, doing the work he called us to from our youth.
That is the river of life. And the raindrops are starting to fall, and the river is rising, rising, rising…
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