Out of my Peace Sanctuary

Spending a week in Spain on the Costa Brava may seem paradisiacal.

It is.

The high cliffs covered with trees falling into the sea. The rollercoaster roads that seem impossibly narrow. The views of the turquoise, transparent water. Beautiful.

So why did I feel that I should be behind my easel in my studio?

Not that I should be there. I simply missed it.

I can spend a few days away from my studio when I am at home because I know I can go into it anytime. But take me away for a week, and I miss it terribly.

I had taken all my painting gear with me, but I only did a few simple pencil thumbnails three times during the week. It was difficult to find a good spot away from people looking at my work. It made me too self-conscious.

When I returned home, I couldn’t wait to get into my studio. I spent the next two days there.

The first day seemed lost. Nothing worked.

The second day, I painted peacefully and enjoyed it. But I noticed that I was reverting a little to my old way of painting... more traditional and less abstract.

The worst is when I decide to “finish” a painting.

Oh, that’s the death wish of my paintings.

It is really in the exploration that I excel. Otherwise, I lose that expression from within. In some strange way, this trip brought me back to square one: explore again.

I wonder why I went back to painting more traditionally. Probably because it is what I know. Or perhaps because I don’t quite trust myself yet.

There is also my need to include a horse in my paintings. Sometimes I don’t see one, or what appears isn’t far enough from reality for me. I find myself at a crossroads, feeling as though I am halfway there.

Not long ago, I painted the sadness I was having difficulty shaking off. The painting was ugly and dark, but somehow the sadness went into it.

The next day, I put the painting aside. Later, I happened to look at it turned on its side.

And there was Ben, my dog whom I lost fourteen years ago.

The saddest time of my life.

The interesting thing was that I was the only one who could see Ben in the painting. Nobody else could see him. But I could.

I normally paint when I am joyful and full of eagerness to explore. That painting taught me that sadness has its own way of showing up.

I like exploring techniques: cold wax, collage, different ways of putting paint onto a surface.

But what about exploring with feelings?

I am afraid of them sometimes. I try to keep my emotions still and peaceful, safely inside my little sanctuary.

But perhaps my work is asking for more than techniques, cold wax, and collage.

Perhaps the next step in my exploration is to let in the feelings that take me out of my peaceful sanctuary... and see what they want to paint.