On Doing Art
I woke up this morning. As I often do after my morning ablutions, I checked the headlines. It’s enough to make the strongest among us want to head back under the covers. But there is an antidote.
Do art.
Dance, sing, paint, write … whatever is yours to do. That’s really how I started back with art. It was Covid, yes. Because I am severely allergic to many drugs, including the vaccine, I knew I was going to be forced to isolate. In fact, the more people who are vaccinated, the more relaxed people are, the riskier it is for me. I already spent a chunk of my life in hospitals. I don’t want to do it again. I had to figure out what I was going to do with that isolation. As my dad used to say, when life hands you a lemon … I decided to make lemonade.
When I was younger, I used to wait for the Muse. I counted on inspiration. In my career as a writer, I had to learn to write when the bell went off. It taught me a truth that works just as well for painting. I want to share this truth with you. I think the thing I have in common with my visitors and the people who re-home my animals is an appreciation for art. Maybe some of you could use a little help with a blank page. Here’s what I learned.
The Muse comes to those in motion.
Before I go to bed each night, I know what I’m going to paint. For a long time, it was pears. I got that subject from Bob Burrage aka Bob Blast. I love so many teachers at YouTube U. The thing about pears is that they have a lovely brush motion. And there are endless variations. Before I go to bed, I stretch my paper, select a palette, and have it ready at my desk. No waiting for inspiration. No morning decisions to make. Before I can get one pear done, the Muse always comes to sit next to me. She never refuses an invitation.
Now, as you can see by the mugs, I’m playing with a new medium—digital art. And I’ve picked a new subject. I use Fresco, but there are other programs. It’s less set up and mess. Fewer supplies. And there is an undo button. I’d already been working with lessons on layering from the wonderful Gerda Lipsky, another YTU art teacher. Digital art offers a fun way to use those techniques. Before I go to bed, I pick an animal. I look at a lot of pictures. I read about their habitat. I check to see what people say about their spiritual qualities. If I’m lucky, they show up in my dreams.
In the morning, after checking the headlines, and otherwise get myself moving, I create my interpretation of my animal of the day. Animals are such a wonderful antidote to what we humans are up to. Sometimes they are mug-worthy. Sometimes not. The Muse judges not. She comes, sits next to me, and art flows.
For part of the day, I write. I’m writing about my ancestors’ move to this continent, and the story of the country through their eyes. (I was writing about an ancestor who lost his mother, wife and eight children to an epidemic when Covid hit.) For part of the day, I’m learning what it means to set up an online store—and endless adventure. But always, I start the day and end the day with a drawing or a painting.
I invite you to do the same. Invite the Muse. Let’s build a groundswell of creativity. The world needs us to be truly human.
