Portrait Head for Water series
Stage three
acrylic on canvas
30 x 30 inches
Barbara Muir © 2010
Portrait head for Water series
Stage two
acrylic on canvas
30 x 30 inches
Barbara Muir © 2010
seven years. So of course whether we want to or
not we're changing. I am really saying this to
comfort myself. When I feel like a chicken (no
aspersions cast on our feathered friends) I feel
stuck. You know that voice in your head, that
reaffirms the negative. We are all constantly
working against it. That voice is the one that
says, "There you go again. You're doing it again.
You see you can't change, you tried something
new and it isn't working."
In lucky people like me (maybe I'm manic/depressive,
but I don't think so, but I do always tell my
students I am ADHD -- perhaps not clinically
accurate, but certainly I trend that way, just look at
this sentence) the saving grace is wild, giddy
feelings of untrammeled hope, pure joy, ecstasy
in the face of my own, and others' triumphs large
ans small. Whew! That was a long and awkward
sentence. But look where we are now. We're out
of gloom and into joy, and that's the dance I work
on over and over. Okay the beginning might be
rough -- fear, worry, agonizing, but as the music
gets louder and the steps more energetic --
some kind of universal happiness leaks in and then
fills the room.
Such has been the process with the first three steps
of this painting. I cannot tell you where I'm going
with it, but I can tell you that at this stage, which
I'll affectionately call stage three (3) I am happy.
That's good enough for me.
If you think you can't change remember how long
it took you to fall in love with your first born,
your niece, or nephew, your kitten, or dog, or
your beloved. In my case my affection was
overpowering and instant in every example
above. And you know that each time your
heart made that giant leap toward affection,
your entire world changed. So yes you can
change, and you already have while you were
reading this. So have a soothing drink of milk,
or tea, or hot chocolate, or wine if you need it,
and take yourself back to the canvas, or your
writing, or to bed for a little nap before you
start again. It's all going to work out just fine.
The time to paint is upon us.
Have a what-do-you-know-I've-changed day.
