Why is it that THE thing you think you aren’t EVER going to do ~ is the ONE thing that will transform EVERYTHING???
I had given this painting up for lost. I’d abandoned her completely!!!
I found her the other day rolled up in a dark corner of my studio. The face of her was black. You heard me right, the center of the painting was painted in such dark colors, you couldn’t see the fields and farms at all.
No, sorry I don’t have a “before picture.” She was too ugly to photograph.
So why does it make a difference anyway?
When I finished painting her (and that’s another story of it’s own), I couldn’t think of a title. NOPE! Nada.
I tried again the next day. Still Nothing. I was totally blank.
On a whim, I went to the easel and flipped back the corner of the canvas to see if there was a title written there.
I couldn’t believe what was written, in my own handwriting, there it was plain as day staring me in the face ~ “Joy’s Garden.”
I had to stop and catch my breath. It took me a couple days to get my bearings. I tried to recall when I had first started the painting. I drew a blank there too. No wonder I’ve had vertigo.
I really only remembered the day I rolled her up and put her away. I had messed up what I thought was a pretty good painting, then blown her off by painting the dark colors. I didn’t think it mattered. You know, who cares?
Well, I could say the same about myself. But I won’t! I’m done throwing dark colors around willy nilly. Dark colors are just like that one pencil dot on a clean white piece of paper. We focus on that one spot and waste all the Light in the world trying to erase one small dot.
My mom used to call me “Dot.” “Dotsie,” actually. No one else EVER called me that so don’t get any ideas. I am NOT that spot. Spot’s a dog.
So what got me working on a painting (and a dream) I had thrown away?
A friend came to the studio to pick out some paintings for his house. Looking for perfect paintings for him, this one showed her face. I felt embarrassed to see her and quickly flipped passed her in the pile.
After he left I put her up on the easel, turned up the music and squeezed out the paint.
The easel is a pedestal where I can see her in the Light. I can listen with an open mind to what the Creator has to say about her.
There’s a clue in this story about what inspires an artist. Do you see it? Leave your thoughts, guesses, comments. Then subscribe to read the other story and see if you found the clue.