The Therapeutic Brush

For as long as I can remember my artwork has been a way for me to express my innermost feelings without ever speaking a word.  Some of the earlieast photos of me capture a toddler with a pad of paper and crayons.  Growing up, my parents often reminded me how quiet I was, but I never really thought they cared about what I had to say.  When I was very little I was painfully shy and so being quiet was the norm, and then I remained quite silent throughout my teenage years.  I always felt disconnected in some ways to the hustle and bustle that many people live every day, but my energy and spark was still alive; it was just focused internally.  I have always been able to lose myself in my own head, whether imagining vibrant colors streaming together or listening to my own music that only I can hear.  I am quiet, but I am aware.

The artwork that I am working on now is very close to my heart.  Some of it has been rattling around in my head for years, tumbling like damp clothes in a dryer.  I have kept it there, safely on the low-heat cycle, waiting for a time when I would be ready to wear it.  I think that time is coming up fast.  My sketch book has recently been updated.  I have several canvases primed.

As much as would like to have the world love my artwork, I know that I paint for myself first.  I think that as an artist, I must not ever be stagnant; change is the only real constant.  What I painted yesterday, what I paint today, what I paint tomorrow...I will never paint these things again.  It happens only once.  That is what makes it art.  That is what makes it personal.  That is what makes it mine.  That is what makes it MAHTOH.