I Want to Paint

Lately, I’ve been wanting something creative in my life.  The ebb and flow of paper writing, reading, more paper writing, etc. has been a little draining.  Let’s just say I’m aware of burn-out and it’s sometimes steady, sometimes swift approach.  And I feel it on it’s way.

Then about a month ago, someone at my school was putting on a “Love Your Body” day event–spoken word, song, music, art… all around loving your body.  I was reminded of a painting that I did in my undergraduate stint in art classes.  You see, when I first arrived at college I wanted to be a Studio Art major, but something made me choose a more academic field of study.  I’ll never be quite sure why my artistic side took a back seat to my intellectual mind, but goodness gracious it’s been almost seven years and I’m feeling the need for that artistry to return to my life.  I want painting and art to be the product that I produce, not paper after paper after old worn-out paper.  It’s time for a change.  And I realized that change was so desperately needed when I submitted this painting to “Love Your Body.”

Nude in Contrasting Scheme

As you see it here, it sits upon a row of thumb tacks above my dining/sewing table.  Painted in pallet knife, it’s loosely conceived as a self-portrait (but it makes some intentional stretches of reality).

Seeing this painting on display was one thing, then actually drawing again was something else entirely.

Today I stole away from work for an hour to take part in my school’s weekly worship service.  This service changes every week, and this week was a communion of artistic improvisation.  I drew.  Good lord, did I draw.  Oil pastels swept onto a piece of white butcher paper taped to the tile floor as folks sang, drummed, tapped, grunted, and whispered together in an impromptu communion of creation.  I lost track of time; I saw colors move before me and I felt my legs go numb from crouching low by the paper.  As I walked back to work and re-entered “reality,” I could palpably feel just how much I wanted that to be my life: a life of creation and of artistic expression.

It may not be practical, and it may not be lucrative, but I need it.  Goodness, I only hope I can make it through the rest of this degree and not get lost in this desire for creativity.


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