Every now and then I paint something for the wrong reason. Don't get me wrong, it's always coming from the heart. What I mean is that I involve myself in situations that I find highly emotional. While they can be an amazing source of drive, they can also infect my attitude. The sadness I feel for a fallen tree, for example, can be depicted in two different ways: The dark, deathly, clinging and desperate way - and the life-celebrating, remembering, but not holding-onto way.
Last year there was such a painting. I was proud of it then. "Here, industry - take that!" My little poke at the changing surroundings. The painting didn't sell. I don't measure my talent or success by the number of sold works, but there is something incredibly rewarding in selling a painting. Aside from the financial benefit, the knowledge that I intellectually connected with another human being feeds me beyond measure. The idea that I put my love into a painting and someone that I've never met was open to seeing it (not just looking at it), feeling it and believing in its impact enough to take it home. If I had to pick one instance when I knew I was doing what I'm destined to do, it would be a heartfelt message I received from a mom who lost her son.
I had 'that one' painting sent back to me. Seeing it again, I could hardly believe how dark and desolate it was. I almost tasted the bitterness the painting seemed to radiate. I brightened the tree. Colour. Lots of it. Every type of yellow Cadmium I could load onto my fat brush. Copper foil. Yummy! Bright bits of spicy teal for contrast. Buttery reds. Intoxicating iron oxides. I changed the title to "Everything Stills Within". Wow. Amazing! I hung it in the upstairs hallway for three months. It felt like letting go of sadness and embracing happiness. Now that I got so much sweet pleasure out of it, I'm letting it go. Let it wrap someone else with that blanket of comfort.
SOLD
Canada House Gallery
Last year there was such a painting. I was proud of it then. "Here, industry - take that!" My little poke at the changing surroundings. The painting didn't sell. I don't measure my talent or success by the number of sold works, but there is something incredibly rewarding in selling a painting. Aside from the financial benefit, the knowledge that I intellectually connected with another human being feeds me beyond measure. The idea that I put my love into a painting and someone that I've never met was open to seeing it (not just looking at it), feeling it and believing in its impact enough to take it home. If I had to pick one instance when I knew I was doing what I'm destined to do, it would be a heartfelt message I received from a mom who lost her son.
SOLD
Canada House Gallery
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