brushstrokes
July 18, 2013 § 6 Comments
I conjure images of myself expecting the momentum of a vision will sweep me into action, thoughts coordinating into movement. Spontaneity spurred by intention. In truth, inhibitions or insecurities intervene and I cannot shed the stream of thoughts that betray false bravado, tethering me safely to the perimeters of unpredictable spaces. I watch as others relax into whim, marveling at the ease of their openness. My own hopes and fears are stowed safely outside the scrutiny of others. I fail flamboyantly at letting go.
I stewed internally over this personal truth during an evening outing with friends. Our plans to paint over wine and conversation promised a keepsake of play; I had hoped to create something of myself on canvas that I could anchor firmly in our home. Instead I uncovered uncomfortable truths that I would rather cover up with bright brushstrokes. Overwhelmed by the uncertainty of creating something from nothing I felt disheartened by a familiar measure of discomfort.
Following my emotions I silently identified other moments when my thoughts and actions contradicted one another creating frustration and disappointment. Where my feet halt abruptly at the edge of certainty, I watch others tread onward with confident gestures of self. My joy in solitary endeavors and intimate settings seem dispassionate against examples of women whose actions and words seem to project a careless confidence.
Today I am wondering if there is a secret wish in my heart for a sense of otherness, remorse hidden beneath chances untaken. Perhaps I must simply accept my truths unapologetically and forgive myself discomforts that hold me to the shadows of others’ light.
scribblechic 
A canvas may be repainted. Morning’s light sometimes reveals new details. A new palette; clean brushes. The image may be reinterpreted.
Lovely sentiment.
Self, self aware, and self concept… to this day i still am trying out new interactions with groups and individuals. I like going to art receptions but have found out I get more out of viewing in a more intimate setting. On the other side I really enjoy interacting with a group about travel, photography and life. My dichotomy… i teach full time and am immersed in people interaction…. where do i live… in the state forest far away from interaction. This seems to have settled my place in the world… that is until my family, especially my kids snap me out of shangri la… 🙂
Your writing again transfixes my own experiences… very thankful for the inner share.
It is very reassuring to think that I am neither lost nor alone in my contradictory comforts and lingering uncertainties.
This is precisely why I paint, why I draw, why I drag materials out and make messes. Each stroke of the pen or brush, every scrap of paper — each one is a challenge that I force myself to say “yes” to. I, too, halted regularly at the edge of certainty; I still do sometimes, but the creative practice has given me strength and a bit more confidence in letting go.
I consider myself so very fortunate to witness your journey as an artist – your work is genuine and vulnerable, brave and loving – much like the woman behind the canvas.