Renaissance du Jour
     The smell of turpentine fills my room. Brushes lay cleaned and shaped on the sink edge. My palette is wet and tightly sealed. Getting back my artistic motivation hasn't been difficult, but it has definitely taken some effort, not to mention time and money. In high school, when I was at my artistic peak, art supplies were supplied and creative inspiration was readily available. Then again, everything in high school was easier, simpler, even though it might not have seen so at the time.
     Refilling my artbox with the right brushes, knives, and mediums has been a tedious task. Finding the right subject matter to paint took a few days as well. After getting everything set, I was suprised that I had any motivation left to continue, and I clumsily began painting. The first strokes that ran across the canvas felt unsteady, as though I were learning to write all over again, except this time with my left hand. After a few hours of laying down some base colors, I stood back and grimaced. I've definitely lost my touch.
     Meanwhile, the past few days have been an awakening for me, spiritually. I'm not sure if there is a correlation with the sudden artistic interest, but I've felt closer to myself. I take Sumo out into the wilderness behind my house. There are bluffs there that we climb and we explore the forests. Out there, the noise of media and life cannot reach you. Only the sound of your own footsteps on the rock, the wind through the pine-needles, and the birds have any voice here.
     I found a precipice -- a rock hanging out over the end of one of the bluffs behind my house -- that overlooks the west half of the city and the mountains, but drops away on all sides, so that if you sit on the edge, it is like floating above the city. You see nothing but the forest and city below on all 180 degrees. I sat there for a while, just taking it all in. Sumo wandered the bushes behind me before finally walking cautiously up to the edge and sitting down next to me.
     My mind drifted with the wind, which couldn't decide if it was coming or going. I thought of nothing and everything. Is it possible to think of nothing? I tried, but gave up in the end, as the setting sun danced across my face and begged me to pay attention to it. It would be a romantic spot. You feel as though you're miles away from the rest of the world, looking down on it. Wrapping my arms around my knees in front of me, I imagined holding someone. I grew wistful, but smiled, thinking that someday I would bring him here, whoever he is.

A start. This shows the base color and outline -- a little rough. I will put more pictures up to illustrate a progression.

Replies: 3 comments

Wow, that picture looks great. If you call that losing your touch, then I'd really like to see what you can do. Is that supposed to be of anyone in particular?

Perfect Man Trait #2 - Artisan by day, lover by night.

Maligayang Pasko Ng Pagkabuhay (Happy Easter)!

Posted by marK @ 04/16/2001 07:27 AM MST

Thanks, Mark. My webcam makes it look better than it really is. :) Eventually, I'm hoping the painting will resemble a friend of mine (Josh).

Posted by Chris @ 04/16/2001 11:29 AM MST

Hmmm...well then, I'd like to meet your friend Josh! Seriously, if you truly feel you've lost your touch, Chris, I'm sure as this painting develops you'll realize you've still got it (whatever "it" might be).

Posted by Bill @ 04/17/2001 07:04 AM MST

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