For all my talk of light conservation, I LOVE TIMES SQUARE. No one is more surprised than I am. I love it there; I visited many times while in New York over Christmas. Each time enjoying the subtle differences of the experience. The lights, the traffic – I tend to have an affinity for traffic … but the atmosphere was wonderfully peaceful amid what I might have otherwise considered chaotic. Times Square is full of life.
I woke up thinking to myself that the best things in life just happen. You don’t have to go looking for them. They unfold beneath your feet. And, as I have reflected upon my life, I see the best things in life have happened to find me. Beginning with my adoption and my family, Catholic school, competitive swimming, college, my children, travel, my closest friends and intimate companions, painting – in each experience a path has appeared that has been beautiful in its unfolding.
And as I sit, this morning, at my computer after a year of intermittent writer’s block, it is my hope I can communicate with writing once again in connection with those who care about my art.
I went into the underworld in 2014 and I didn’t come back out until yesterday, when I remembered how much I enjoy walking on a treadmill. It was a bright sunny day reminiscent of about a year ago. When I say underworld, I am not referring to 1. the world of criminals or of organized crime 2. the mythical abode of the dead, imagined as being under the earth. I would use the word, rather as a spin-off of that, to mean deep in thought as if having died. Intensely reflective, in deep consideration of life.
I have studied, I have smiled, I have grieved. The more I surrender to life, the more the path unfolds beneath my feet. In 2014, some truly beautiful things happened. I was invited to show my art at Orchid Tree Park & Gallery in Round Top, Texas and enjoyed a wonderful weekend there in the summer with my youngest son, Clive. We met many people and had the distinct pleasure of spending time with the gallery owners and their friends and family. It was a highlight of my year.
After my writing of a blog post from Houston Fine Art Festival, in November, two of my art patrons visited later that day. They looked through my art and asked how I was going to get all this out of here at the end of the day. It was an unusual festival in that load out was two blocks away. I told them my plan and they told me they were staying another hour and a half so they could help with the process. They then stayed another two hours after that closing out my tent and bringing all the supplies back to the van. I am deeply touched by the time and effort they put into our friendship, without even being asked. As we were loading tent weights onto the dolly, I smiled and said, “I need a boyfriend.” I could then hear the husband of a photographer from Chicago in the tent across from me saying, “I need a boyfriend! She (my wife) needs a boyfriend!”
Some beautiful things happened in 2014 but also some difficult things. I was surprised by the divergent nature of the year. Happiness, but some of the most difficult things, too, like letting go. Clive taught me while in New York that when you find a penny on the sidewalk, if the penny is not heads up you are to turn it that way and place it back for the next person to find. There is a time in life for letting go of things not meant for you but letting go is sometimes a heartbreaking thing to do.
The opening of a flower, like the wave of the sea, the rising of the sun. There is no resisting these things, there is no pressure. An unfolding happens in its own time when the seasons are ready. I reached a place, yesterday, where I am surrendering to life once again. Loss is not easy to comprehend. A close friend of mine, husband of one of my dear artist friends, died suddenly about ten days ago. It is beyond difficult to comprehend such loss. Maybe I am still in the underworld. I have had much to consider in the last year.
I don’t have questions, I don’t have answers, I just am.