Let me begin by once again thanking everyone who came to see me at the Creative Arts Center gallery last night. It was my deepest pleasure to share my work with all of you and as I mentioned in an earlier post, my heart feels so very full. This, my first solo exhibition, has been a labor of absolute love and I feel blessed to be so supported in this effort by so many beautiful, caring souls.
Something funny dawned on me last night though as I was sitting there waiting for folks to arrive...
I had a bit of a traumatic holiday season, filled with sick pets, stress, and a lot of painting to get ready for this show. Once mid-January hit, I decided to give myself a break from the brush so that I could focus exclusively on the exhibition. It was nice to feel a little less pressure in my daily life.
Now little by little this "break" dragged on longer than I had anticipated. I hesitate to say that it turned into a "slump"... I think slapping that label on it gives the negative too much power. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I was starting to get worried about where the next masterpiece would come from. Day by day that worry built upon itself to produce an increasing degree of anxiety. And the anxiety, in turn, allowed the paralysis to find an even stronger hold.
Until last night.
An interesting thing about this show is that for the first time since I have been painting professionally, my ENTIRE inventory is out of our house. Usually, my work fills our walls and my husband and I enjoy my artistic efforts until piece by piece, they find new homes. I live with my artwork and I am surrounded by it. And now, I realize, I am nourished by it.
When I got to the gallery last night, it struck me how very much our bare walls have been affecting me. As soon as I sat down in the quiet, surrounded by the colors and textures of all of my various voices and emotions, I felt so completely nurtured. It was a calm and a sense of completeness that I haven't felt since, well, the show went up. My paintings give me the confidence to move forward in my body of work. They whisper the next steps to me. They assure me that yes, I am good enough...
Isn't that odd? Perhaps it's not, really. But I can't begin to tell you how hard this truth hit home for me last night. What I had considered a possible dry spell was not. It was, instead, a longing for the missing pieces to my soul. How powerful is that?