Last summer, Reese and I were an extra pair of hands on a senior high mission trip to Guadalajara. Walking through El Centro one afternoon, we saw this woman sitting on the steps of a cathedral. When I saw her, I saw a painting, exactly like when I first saw the woman in Jamaica. For various reasons, though, life happens, and painting doesn't. It seems like ages since I picked up a paintbrush. How do I begin? Do I really know how to do this???? Do I have a clue? What happens if I pick up a paintbrush and it's all been a fluke?
So, with a small leap of faith, I squeeze out the paints. I take out the palette knife and start mixing colors. Then, just one stroke is applied to the canvas, and another, and another. Soon, the process overwhelms, and it's been hours. To be honest, I've been working on this particular painting in my head for almost a year. But, now, look! It is a painting! The woman and child look like what they are supposed to look like! It is the beginning of what I've envisioned for all these long months....
Reese comes home and cheers. Realizing how much of my soul has been invested in this painting, I start to cry. What a blessing....I'm so grateful that I can be a part of this. Amen and amen.
4 comments:
I suppose the foundation for any art is probably fear. Fear of failure. In my writing, I'm always scared of a blank page.
I'm glad you overcame that trepidation because your painting is gorgeous.
Fear. Yep, it's powerful all right. Have you ever seen the British comedy series Spaced? There's an artist character, who when asked to describe his art says, "Anger. Fear. Pain. Aggression." Seems I have a healthy amount of fear. Hopefully, though, I can avoid anger, pain, and aggression.
Thank you, puddle jumper, aka Pattysue.
I was filled with a daughter's pride when I read this post, and for everything that you went to in order to complete this painting.
I remember that trip, that woman, and the picture that you took.
Keep up the good work!
Love
I'm getting teary again, Hilary. Thank you, Sweetie.
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