When i was quite young, 5th grade, i was told to write a paper taking a position as a creationist or evolutionist. i think there were actually two more...that mixed the two favoring one side. i don't remember really what i chose. i remember i started the paper describing the colors of a sunrise, and ended it describing the colors of a sunset. i remember it blew teachers away in the little South Carolinian town. It was maybe my most proud moment of childhood. i remember being told that i may be a writer, but even more likely, i was a painter in the making. i remembered wondering about painters, and as there was no internet then, i could only wonder really. i didn't know any painters. Painters seemed so romantic, so passionate, so interesting. They lived in Rome, Paris and Mexico. They had lovers and wine, and color all around them. i was a young girl in the bible belt. The color around me was sticky and oppressive. i didn't choose colors in any part of my life, but generally stuck to the neutral, blacks and grays.This was the land of blue jeans and eye makeup. I couldn't be a painter.
Something has happened since i walked away from teaching nearly five years ago. Something surprising and wonderous to me. The sunrises and sunsets of youth found me.
i remember when my partner asked me in the beginning of this journey five years ago, if i wanted to be a painter. i considered this question absurd. The one thing i knew was that i was not a painter. Painters were free spirits, elusive to most, quirky, passionate, and very interesting to other people. Didn't they live in Rome, Paris or Mexico? i was steady, detail oriented, and very structured, ordinary and boring. Besides...painters need a grasp on color. i had no clue about color. This was very apparent to my partner and me whenever i tried to break out of neutral attire.
Instead of exploring the idea i pondered if i was a photographer or a drawer? Pen and ink drawing, in my own, albeit unusual way, i had done my whole life. Photography, something i picked up along the way had a promise of new career...if i could find a lucrative sector i was good at (ever the practical person).
Once again i disregarded possibility, this time as an adult.
Where these adjectives came from...who knows, but funny...my wandering around the world, loner leanings, and known to be quirky personality...well does not exactly paint me as a microbioligist...hee hee. Clearly something about me was very apparent to everyone but me.
So here i am, and painting gives me so much joy. i remember one day a couple of years ago as i embarked upon painting, leaving my studio and texting a friend. "i am so hyper when i have been painting" i said. " That's happiness." she said with confidence. "It makes you happy."
Now...can i move to Mexico and have loads of lovers and wine?