I am in my apartment and, just yesterday, got my studio/guest room fully functional and set up so that it looks like home to me! This entry will be short because I want to go downstairs to the space and select the two paintings that I want to finish first, then unpack my paints, tissue papers, glue, and lace papers.
Then I want to paint. I want to officially begin my next phase of life. And I will put out one blank 400lb sheet of smooth paper. I will start the painting I dreamed the other night.
Moving was harder than I expected; leaving my home of twenty-one years a little more emotional, as well. Everything takes longer than I want because I over-estimate what I can do in a day. At first, this was upsetting to me, as well as frustrating. I am an instant-gratification kind of woman more often than I would wish. Last week, however, I finally got it through my noggin that there is no rush; rushing is antithetical to my goals, in fact.
My back is what it is, and I must learn to accommodate what I must, and to push judiciously. Judiciously is not a word with which I have more than a passing acquaintance ...
Art cannot be rushed; it is created in its own time, but completed with perseverence and often with quiet patience. The frantic, tortured soul who works frenetically through the night is not the model that has ever worked for me. I do my best work when I am calm and content, in fact.
That feeling came over me about the fifth night I was here. I realized I was home. I was where I had been aiming to be; I was at peace all the way through, for the first time in several years. I knew that it didn't matter how quickly I completely unpacked; it would be fine if I took a day here and there simply to rest and to be.
So. It is nearing 6:00 a.m. I shall go put the coffee on and make myself a lovely breakfast. I will take my hour to allow my body to adjust to gravity and being semi-upright, and to welcome the day. Then I will paint.
Whatever else I'm supposed to do with my day will present itself as I go along. I am a lucky woman, and I am happy. Truly happy. And at long last, all the disparate parts of me are gathered together and on the same schedule with me, on this new path, in my new home.
Fortunate indeed.
Accidental Spring
"Accidental Spring" This began as the background for painting other papers, but became something else!
8 comments:
I am very happy for you, though I may begin to miss the stories from the (obviously) haunted house that tried to drive you mad.
Oh, not to worry, Bruce. I'm sure there will be stories here, too. For instance, Something has stolen my regular dinnerware knives. All but two. Why leave just two? One friend has suggested voles.
And there is the matter of my jar opener. It was not with my can opener. Hence, someone or something stole that as well. I think the spirits travel with me... at least some of them.
As for driving me mad? Seriously, I think it would be such a short trip for driving me there. I think even I could walk...
Welcome back! Enjoy the process of getting to know your new home.
Welcome back to your other home here in Blogville too Jeannette.
Can't wait to see what emerges from your new space.
Can you message me your new address? I'd like to send you a little housewarming something or other...well, just because.
xoxo Kim
Fabulous to hear you in this vein. Every blessing to you in this new phase of life.
This is good news to hear you are content where you are now. That will definitely affect your art.
...and it may be good if the spirits have followed you, we don't want you to be lonely, afterall!
Oh, Violet ... you are just a tad demented, aren't you... of course, what does it say that I like this in a person? Yeah. Wouldn't want to be lonely. I'm missing one shoe from a pair...
Enjoy the new place and take things at your own pace. May great things happen for you.
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