I love the newness of a new year. Especially now in the days when the date is in the single digits- it is just a wee baby year right now, and it has its whole life ahead of it. While I haven’t painted in the studio again yet, I have been busy with various things that take up time on the laptop. I don’t want to go into too much detail yet, but I have a lot of hope for this year. I have sent in one particular application that has gotten me pretty excited. I will tell you about it when I get rejected/accepted. But that isn’t the only thing I have on the table for this year. I’m looking forward to many opportunities and changes; hopefully most of them will pan out.
Filling out that application was a much easier task than normal, which I can credit to this blog. Having a journal of my studio means that my thoughts have already been articulated and I don’t have to stare at a blinking cursor (as much). Writing about my art comes hard sometimes (artist statements, anyone?). Applications are no fun, because they take so much effort and rejection is common. The thing is, I really want this opportunity. I was talking to a wise, dear, and well-read friend about my desire for this to happen, and she told me about a passage in a book this brought to mind about hope. The character in the book really desired something, and she talked about letting the hope materialize and then pass through her instead of lodging in her head and making her miserable. What a great way of thinking about our longings. It is good to dream and hope, but instead of letting it become an obsession, let it pass on by. If it happens, great! If not, then it has left room for another.
My next piece will be taken from this painting. It is called “We built it with our collection.” It is meant to be like a home or something valuable built over time, with bits and pieces gathered for the intention of building. And that window to the clouds? The building is not complete; it has left a view toward the sky. It reminds me of the days when I am looking down all day cleaning or child-caring or cooking or driving or emailing, and then I go outside and look up. I see the vast sky that changes constantly, trees reaching toward it, birds soaring through it, and I feel better. I get to see something BIG. This window is a lot like the window in the kitchen by our table. It is a high window, and many times throughout the day I stop to look through it at the sky. The moment of natural beauty uplifts me, and as humans, aren’t we quite suited to look up?
“If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never. And what wine is so sparkling, what so fragrant, what so intoxicating, as possibility!”
– Søren Kierkegaard
I hope this new year is the year of the possible,