I am coming to you a bit later in the day. Sometimes things just go slowly and I am learning to be at peace with a different pace than I had planned.
This week I pulled out the painting, Nothing is Wrong, Nothing Needs to Be Fixed. I created this painting in 2016. Upon unwrapping it, this painting unsettled me a bit. I decided to bring it out into the garden and view it there. The space gave both of us room to breathe. I began to observe it for what it was, just a painting.
I am struck first by its size, especially in contrast to the smaller paintings I have been working on in the garden. It is full and feels expansive. Standing directly in front of it, it fills up my chest and the edges flit at the limits of my peripheral vision. As I move back to observe it, it still takes up a lot of space. I notice the horizontal collaged lines look like sentences. The palette of the painting also is reminiscent of a piece of paper. That nod to writing seems particularly meaningful to me knowing how writing has become such an important part of my artistic life. In this painting, however, the writing is hidden and veiled.
Beyond the collaged "sentences" there are a few legible words. The title of the painting is stenciled in pencil, hidden underneath a thin layer of paint. There is also hand-writing. A line of cursive yes's cascade along the far left of the painting. A few obscured sentences give archaeological evidence of journal writings. I remember pulling the title from a book I was reading at the time about spirituality, The Silence of the Heart by Paul Ferrini. This book has been boxed up for years. I just unpacked it and am looking forward to revisiting its wisdom. At the time I felt there was a deep truth to the idea of nothing is wrong, nothing needs to be fixed. This phrase seemed to capture the notion that the world exists as a miracle beyond our trials and tribulations. I also felt it captured the sense that things are always in order, even when we experience troubles.
However, looking at the painting today, I have a different perspective. Not only do I see a problem with hiding my own words behind layers of paint, but I have a different perspective about "nothing is wrong." Accepting reality as it is is different from accepting and assuming that means nothing needs to be changed or addressed. I think this is why the painting first unsettled me. I still love it, but I feel that I was using the painting to hide words I needed to speak out loud. I was misunderstanding the painting's wisdom for hiding, hiding my own truth under the guise of spiritual wisdom.
I like placing the painting out in the garden. Its horizontal elements begin to feel like landscape horizons, or layers of soil. It becomes bigger than my perspective at the time of making it. It becomes part of a larger whole. This painting has given me pause, and it is why I am loving this process of reflection. Thank you for joining me on this journey!
Until next Friday!
Be well, breathe, read, and make some art!
Jen