Some days, it can feel like magic . . . you go to work in the studio, stand for hours making strokes with paint, and you end up with a “wow” and you question, “where did that come from?” And other days, you start the same but finish with an “ugh” and you question, “where did THAT come from?”
The process of making art is always magical to me, always a time to get lost in the search for something wonderful. On a good day, the process brings a sigh of satisfaction and sense of peace. On a not-so-good day, the process can be painful, and worst of all, that little voice of negativity says the hours were wasted once again. Those are the days I have to quiet the voice and say there is no waste when there is learning.
So where is the consistency? I have not found it yet. I don’t know where it comes from, but I have a feeling that it can be found in perseverance. Or maybe consistency is the carrot I chase, believing with each “wow” that it can be caught.
Today I will gladly try again, and I hope you will, too. Make something beautiful or make someone smile. And know that it came from inside of you.
Times change and roads that were once void of traffic are discovered, thus losing the loneliness I loved. The only solution for me is to get on a new road — one less traveled. So off we go to the land of the cypress and the tiny town of Wewahitchka. I wished for nature trails and paths to the paveless places. But this town is not looking to be discovered, not looking for fame and fortune. It’s not looking to entice visitors with TripAdvisor attractions.
This is a simple place where white-haired women with tangled fishing lines chat easily with anyone and everyone, and where young men who just moved here from Alabama are quick to share alligator gar stories and smile big while luring bait fish along the cypress banks of Dead Lake. I am here to catch a glimmer of fall Florida color, missing the Jersey leaves but not the northern cold.
The gray sky mimics the cypress trunks as reflections of bronze, rust and gold float on calm water. New colors can be exciting — so unfamiliar to this blue and white based beach girl.
So today, in honor of yesterday, I will travel the quiet roads in my memory and open up to new colors of paint. Let’s try a little change.
The walls are painted and the hanging system is set to be installed next Monday. Artists bring their works in on Wednesday and SQUARES At 560 opens the Emerald Coast Theatre Company’s 2017-18 season! It’s going to be Grand!
Why do I think so? Because it’s good to be a part of something good and grand to be a part of something grand. ECTC has a killer season lined up, and Lowkylzart (that’s me and my local artist community) is ready to join in with an all-square theme of fantastic new creations to enrich audience experience and support the theatre with art sales. It’s our fifth year working together.
Why squares? Because squares are cool, and easy to share and perfect for so many places in your home. Collectors can connect directly to the artists through Instagram #squaresat560, if unable to see this incredible theatre and art space in person. So follow Lowkylzart on Instagram and Facebook as our journey through the ever-changing, always-inspiring, thought-provoking world of art and theatre afford you the grandest six months at 560 Grand Boulevard Upstairs.
It’s only good to be part of something grand when what you’re a part of is a good thing.
These are the faces of my latest limitations.
If I couldn’t use my right hand, I probably would never have attempted new art. I feel like I really had nothing to lose in trying lefty pastels and then my oil and cold wax faces. After all, I wasn’t allowed to paint in familiar ways during the days following carpal tunnel release surgery, so if I wanted to paint, I was going to have to push myself outside the old comfort zone.
My right hand has a long way to go in the healing process, but I think I’ve adapted and even grown. I’m sharing this in case you ever feel frustrated with limitations placed on you. Don’t let them defeat you even for a moment. Just grow where you’ve never thought of growing before.
This painting was chosen yesterday — chosen to leave my little nest for the big city of Atlanta, to live its life in a luxurious loft. I’m a little sad because I always loved it. And I’m a little happy because someone else loved it as much as I did.
This is the life of an artist — a life of letting go.
First you have to let go of inhibition, of perfection, of rejection and of fear, constantly reminding yourself that not everyone is going to like what you create, and it’s ok.
Then, someone comes along who not only likes it but wants to purchase it, and you have to let go again. It’s a roller coaster of emotions on any given day.
So back to the easel I go, getting ready for the next letting go lesson.