In response to Robert Genn's Reflexive Relaxology in The Painter's Key

One of my previous husbands was married previously to a lady obsessed by her father. She had been working on his portrait for over 10 years. That's a bit of mental disfunction if you ask me. I should have asked her prior to marrying her ex-husband. It could have been transference. Seriously, there's something almost sexual about listening to a southern man drawl his way through a story. I can surely pick out the art of a home born southerner by the languid brush strokes of their paintings. It's just luscious. On the other hand, I'm a fast paced Californian who is always asked to slow down so others can catch up. In the last month I completed 3 very large oils and I have 6 oils in different stages of completeness with 2 watercolors in the wings. My self analyses of that is that I'm going through a period of indecision. I think it's important to begin and complete a piece of work before you start on another. It feels like I've been interrupted before I finished my sentence. Perhaps this is a time of change or growth for me. I could just be stuck. Maybe too much going on in my personal life that distracts my attention. It could just be this time of year. I'm sure I need to slow down and breathe. Sit back and listen to my paintings. Light a candle and fantasize about laying out in a small canoe on a slow moving body of water with the sun seeping deep into my soul. That's where I'll discover my best work. That's where I can finish my sentence. There's a place for speed, but I find that in today's world we don't have to simulate it. Speed pushes us every single minute of every day to hurry up and finish whatever it is we are doing at the time. I crave the slow sensual drawl of a meticulous, thought provoked moment transferred onto canvas for all the world to enjoy. Here's looking at you kid.

In Response to Robert Genn's post on The Painter's Key

Didn't you find it fascinating and shocking how many thoughts ran through your mind at the moment that you realized your painting was stolen? The feeling of not understanding what you aren't seeing, the sadness, then anger and finally followed by the feeling of being violated were probably felt in less than 2 or 3 seconds. Several years ago, I had just moved into a cabin in the woods and had to leave quickly for an emergency surgery. While I was away the water pipes froze and broke completely flooding my garage. I didn't find out until I arrived home 2 weeks later. In the garage were boxes I hadn't moved inside yet filled with my watercolor paintings. All of them stained by the water. I wasn't supposed to do any lifting so a friend of mine came over and cleaned it all up for me. He said all the paintings had been destroyed and he had thrown them away. Several months later I visited him and there, tucked behind a piece of furniture in the corner of his living room was a pile of my paintings. When I asked what possessed him to take my paintings his response was that he didn't think I would care because they were damaged and if I ever became famous he would have something valuable. I took my damaged paintings back home, made a big bonfire fire behind my cabin and slowly burned them. Needless to say, the friendship didn't recover from the fire, either. If he had asked me, I would have given him the paintings, but he violated me in a very profound way.

Play the Game

In the 'Legend of Bagger Vance', Bagger says the game can't be won, the game is only to be played. Those words took me inside myself so deeply that everything stopped. What a concept. I'd never considered not working for the win. But if you take the win out of the game all that's left is the pure joy of playing. I'm a very competitive person so the concept is difficult for me, but I truly believe it's necessary in order to focus on the art and not the sale. I use that phrase as an affirmation to remind myself that I still have a game to play. A game that I can get better at and a game that never ends until I do. The other phrase that comes to mind in times of questioning is, "There is only love and fear." Like most I tend to notice and react to the fear more than I recognize the love, but I'm working on it. This is the year I have committed to moving forward in my art career. I understand now that I can't win the game, but I can give it everything I've got. Dealing with the only options that I have of love or fear breaks it down to a simplier, more compact playing field. It's just nice to know there are so many other deserving participants out there playing the game with me.