It has been a few days since I have made any time for some productive painting. I did get one done for my Buddhist friend, intended for her when she came up for First Friday, but she could not make it...but it's done, and I am happy with it. A second one was being worked on for my blogger friend, but I was not happy with the progress and did not want to rush it. So, I will have to wait until the spring to get it to her.
But my blogger friend asked a very good question: why do artists always seem to want to give away their work to folk?
Good question.
Perhaps it's like the cat who kills a mouse and brings it to the doorstop of its owner...its caretaker: it's a gift, a sign of love and friendship, and perhaps also some sort of desire for validation. That is how it feels...although I cannot put myself in the place of a cat (mine are indoor and they don't get to catch or kill anything and bring nothing to us but their own neuroses and needs to be petted and loved and stroked).
Perhaps the artist is the same...at least this artist.
Painting has become quite a therapy for me...but it's also another outlet...a way to sensualize my creativity that pounding on the keyboard does not provide. And I am sure a Freudian would make something out the extension of the body with the long paintbrush...not to mention my chomping on cigars!
Right now, at the request of a friend, I am trying to paint something that captures the conflicting emotions of peace and turmoil...joy and sadness...heaven and hell. Will I deliver? Who knows.
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