The Next Step

My creative self yearns for expression. 

The chosen field of my employment loves to use the catchphrase "think outside the box" and it absolutely drives me crazy because they don't really mean it.  If you dare do something that isn't a carbon copy of something that has been done before you are immediately told it can't be!  You cannot possibly build that!  The whole point of solving a problem using creativity is lost.  New ideas are approached with extreme cynicism at first.  If others warm to the idea the cynicism is replaced with caution.  In fact, another catchphrase I hear a lot is "cautiously optimistic".  Personally, I think that is doublespeak for "I think it will fail, but if it doesn't I'm going to take credit for it."

Lest I get overly cynical and perhaps even bitter I have chosen a new route.  I allowed my mind to trace my life backwards.  This seems to be an event that started at age 50.  I started looking backward more than forward.  So rather than spend time and energy lamenting the path not taken I spent some quality time studying the things in the past that make me feel alive, make me feel happy and above all else, vibrant.

I certainly embrace the idea that I am vibrantly alive rather than at the end of a rather lackluster career.  I am empowered by this choice I've made.

Never the one to heed warnings I am forging ahead in my new quest.  As you, dear reader, know I do not suffer fools gladly nor do allow myself to think I can't do something simply because someone else tells me I can't.  PFFFFFFT!! I say!  I'll do it anyhow, and what's more I'll do it my way.

I have unleashed my creative self.  After much thought and reflection I settled on a new hobby. 

I shall paint.

Currently, I have set up my studio in the front bedroom.  On a card table covered with newspaper ads I have the back of a wooden wine box propped up against a small cardboard box filled with books.  It is kept in place with two pints of canned green beans. This is my easel. I have armed myself with pastels and watercolor pencils for sketching.  For paint I have watercolors and acrylics.  I have lots of brushes and paper.

Last night I started.  I spent a blissful two hours engrossed in putting an assortment of brushes into water and little bins of hard color then swishing and stroking and dabbing on paper.  Intoxicated by the explosion of color from the end of my brush I struggled as my hand refused to do what my eyes demanded.  Finally, I relinquished control and allowed the colors to do what colors do.  They bleed.  They blend. They transform into another shape and form.  I painted fast.  I painted slow.  I wiggled a fat brush and lined with a small brush.

In the end, after I forced myself to stop I had 3 "paintings".  I hesitate to call them paintings because this was an exercise.  In what I don't know, nor do I care.  What I do know is I felt happy inside.  Like Vanessa,  I felt movement inside.  My creative self is awake and watching.

I'm having a blast.  Tune in tomorrow and I will show what fun looks like!  Until then I'll leave you with one of my favorite paintings of all time.

Van Gogh was misunderstood too you know.