To Paint, To Write

I work in two mediums predominately, acrylic paint, and words. I’ve yet to truly combine the two and here’s why. Often the paintings are full too bursting with emotion and strife that I have no words for, there is only the pain or the wonder and I can’t find the way to explain it with the english language. Often the writings, the stories, are my desperate attempt to make the words work for me, because the thing I just lived had so much to it that I have to find 72 adjectives and metaphors for it to makes sense. 


There is much of my art that feels desperate, feels like a bleeding need, a crying for attention. Because I think if no one ever bothered to teach me to talk I would have learned to paint and draw and sculpt my way into communicating. My first language was the brush in my hand, because I’ve always lead with my heart. 


Part of my every day life is maintaining and doing my best to take care of my physical health. I have some unhealthy things happening with my digestive system and it’s not a fun part of the process we call life. Yesterday was my planned painting day and it also happened to be the day my body just couldn’t. The uncomfortable stomach was hard enough but it wasn’t the hardest part of yesterday. Because I had to take a break, had to just not, because my body demanded it of me and that lead to shame. Because I spent much of my formative years being told to suck it up, to just push through it. But no amount of pushing was gonna make my stomach work the way it’s supposed to. So I told myself to lie down till I felt better and that moment never really came. 


So yesterday I didn’t make it to the studio and I didn’t paint, but that’s okay. Because yesterday while reading I had a thought for the story I’m in the midst of outlining. It just lead me to question after question and I didn’t really find any solutions for the plot, but it made me think. I’ve taken a bit of a break from it but come next week I’m really gonna get stuck back into it because I feel inspired. All because I listen to my bodies need and let mind wander to where it wished. 


I used to be proud of my pessimistic outlook on life, I though it made me cool, thought it made mature because I was realistic. Now I look back on my teenage self and shake my head, because I didn’t know how to have fun, how to choose joy for the sake of joy. There are times where you gotta be real and gotta be serious but most times it’s more than okay to enjoy your walk through life. It’s okay to take a nap when your body needs it, often you’ll be rewarded for being a good steward to your health. 


So with no deadlines to meet and no rush to get where I don’t know I’m going, when my body says rest that’s just what I’ll do. We’re not running out of time and then end isn’t great and terrible. So be kind to your heart and be proud of how far you’ve come. There’s nothing more to give you hope than seeing how you’ve come halfway to where you’ve been running to. Just smell the roses and how they bloom, not all was made for death and destruction. 

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