Clearing The Way

A couple of weeks ago my friend, Lou Ann, helped me to begin the process of culling old art: we started with the larger paintings which have been rolled and squirreled away in cupboards and crawl spaces, collecting dust, etc. When I was painting the larger pieces (sometimes as large as five by three feet), I framed quite a few and exhibited some. The smaller, safer pieces in brush and ink sold. Others live on my walls and those of my daughter, Moira, but most have been rolled up and waiting upon either my death or my courage. Lou Ann came along and loaned me the courage to begin. She was excited. I was terrified. Fortunately, terror turned quickly to determination. After such a long time, I could see what needed a long delayed interest and appreciation. I could also see what begged for a strong heart and stronger hands to rip the strong paper into small enough pieces to stuff into trash bags for the next day's pick up. Yes sir, yes sir... Three bags full!

I salvaged eleven paintings, and the one I post is the smallest of those. I like it, and discovering that it is the same size as the conte crayon drawings of dancers I was sharing here for a while, I felt moved to return to those and frame several of them for a possible show. Micheal's provided me with some inexpensive frames, and I have been busy. It is a good feeling. 

This is in spite of the fact that exhaustion overwhelms me at times and does it's damn best to bring back the doubts. The truth is that I want to live the years I have left with gusto. I don't want to surrender my days to fatigue. I want to embrace the days. Yet I know the importance of rest. I do know the importance of rest...and of stillness. Though my soul has a certain urgency about it these days, my body demands my respect. It demands a gentle touch. I pray to recall the dance of balance, and I pray to sustain my child-like trust in something mysterious that guides my days.

Extra photo: self-portrait...