I have been thinking a lot about how my dialogue with the world around me has changed, since becoming a “senior” person. I’ve also been thinking about dandelions.
Amidst the destruction caused by political warfare, global dismantling of democracy, and threats of extinction to our very way of living on earth, dandelions emerge as symbols of resilience. Dandelions are the unwanted little misfits in groomed lawns and rose gardens, with their soft yellow heads atop spikey skinny dull green leaves and prickly stems and long tap roots that defy attempts to annihilate them.
Yet they remind us that beauty and ugliness coexist in life, that thriving doesn’t require approval or ideal conditions.
Now that my studio space is unpacked, tables cleared, easel reconstructed, brushes ready, I have been reacquainting myself with materials at hand and the wonderful routine of daily art practice. I notice that my emotions are in a kind of slump and I avoid tension, maybe as a backlash to all the physical and mental challenges of the last several months. It comes through in my painting as the absence of defined shapes; as uncertainty; as a fickle palette; as monochromatic swaths of color. It feels like lack of progress but by now I know better. This is just how I transition between the physical world and the world of creativity in my studio while my body and mind continue to heal.
If making art is really channeling energy that is constantly all around us, we have to be open to whatever is carried by that energy. Some of it—maybe a lot of it—is bound to be chaotic, charged, wild and electric. Choose to let it come through you or else you won’t create anything that vibrates with life.
Work from my archives:
I have been reading poems from Louise Gluck’s 1999 book, Vita Nova. It contains an epilogue that is relevant today:
The master said You must write what you see. But what I see does not move me. The master answered Change what you see.
Wishing you new eyes, eyes that change the familiar into something new. Thank you for reading, commenting, and subscribing. Even though it is always free for readers, subscribing lets me know that you enjoy coming along with me as I create. Celeste
One more thing to think about
Beautiful works, Celeste!