A Love of Art

Well!  It’s done, and I am thrilled (if suffering from a mild unbelief).

Seasons Sparkles
When I stopped by the Summerland Art Gallery yesterday to pick up my pieces I was not prepared for what I found.  After two weekends of the Christmas-inspired ‘Seasons Sparkles’ art show, all of us ‘artists’ were required to come and retrieve our un-sold ‘art’.  Now, I won’t speak for any other participants, but I was happy just to get past the jury when I submitted my work.  I know it’s not an exhibit at the MoMA or anything, but remarkable nonetheless: although I consider myself to be a great many things, ‘visual artist’ has never been on the list.

At least not until now.

A great lover of art, I’ve only recently tried my hand at producing some (since our return from Spain we’ve had expanses of bare walls, not being able to  buy the art we wanted – what better solution that to make – sorry – ‘create’ some?).  Thanks to an indulgent and supportive husband and a somewhat bemused 3 ½ year-old Oscar, I have been relaxing by dabbling in the world of multi-media acrylics.

A world of difference
My experience of painting differs profoundly from my other creative outlet – singing.  I feel no pressure to paint in a particular way, to achieve any particular end, or even to be any good.  Each painting is an experiment, I’m not concerned with rules or tradition, nor is any sense of self-worth tied up in the results.

To be fair, the circumstances are quite different – I didn’t go to school for 7 years to be a painter.  I’ve never sacrificed time, money or other opportunities to pursue my ‘art’.  I haven’t had to try to conform (at least in part) to industry fashion and politics, nor exposed myself to others’ judgment countless times.  I’ve never wondered if my paintings were ‘good enough’.

It is true, however, that painting has also never given me the sense of purpose and joy, achievement and success that singing has.  Nor have I felt the despondency and frustration associated with rejection and failure.  In music, for me, there have been sublime heights and devastating nadirs; through the journey I have elevated my soul, explored the depths of despair, and, at many turns, had occasion to clock my reactions to adversity.

Sandstorm - the only one that didn't sell.

Uncomplicated enjoyment
I know that the different experiences are not idiomatic of the two art forms – anyone who dedicates as much of their time, energy and soul to painting as I have to music will have developed a rich and complicated relationship to their art.  However, for me, the desultory dabbling in visual art opens up vistas of relaxing time where I feel free to learn and experiment in a pure and straightforward way…and, if as evidenced by the 4 pieces that sold at the show, people actually like the ‘art’ I create, what a lovely turn of events.

(Perhaps I should try to incorporate this kind of freedom and levity into my other creative pursuits…?)