I've noticed that the longer I use my creative muscles, the more I am becoming aware of myself- how I am be-ing- in the process of making art. And, I realize that I hold more anxiety in the making than I realized. I can feel it now. That not knowing how will it ever work out feeling. Fear. Uncertainty. Even though I've seen the other side of this feeling hundreds of times over now- literally- I still fret. Hundreds of paintings over the last 8 years. And still the tension, the lack of belief, the grabbing onto the reins, the me in my own way.
[...Rabbit trail. kinda. How does God do it? How does He wait on us when we are continually forgetting who He is and what He's done for us- like not 5 years ago done for us but just a couple of hours ago or yesterday or 5 minutes ago! Forgetful, foolish creature! Never satisfied, never content with the more than enough that He is or who I am in Him.]
As I started this painting, it was there. The junk. The muck. The walking through mud, over before you get started perspective. It's never stronger than the thrill of creating, but it is there.
Without really stopping to analyze what was going on inside, I did what I always do. I started. I moved. I made a mark. And then color came. Or color and then a mark? Who cares. I began.
Before I knew what was happening, a new adventure was taking shape, a place I'd never been before was beckoning me. It was a delight...and a little bit of a pain in the butt. Mostly a delight, though.
Oh, the sounds. The movement. The chipping, crumbling chalk. The dust on fingertips. The scrumbly line. I could eat it up! Eat the whole process all gone. I must be a Wild Thing.
And then, I find myself here. Typing. Grieving the end of the thing that I was second guessing and quitting on before I began just 5 hours earlier. Oh my word!! What a dork. The foolishness. The waste of energy. The thwarted freedom.
It's good to write it out, though. It helps me look at life more honestly and call out that tendency I have to stop trusting, to start clamoring for everything but what and Who I know to be true. Art helps me see God's grace in my life with ever so much clarity, and then life turns around and feeds my art.
The beautiful circle that makes my heart press in for a closer look at the Creator...over and over again.