Faded photo, fresh creativity…

While on an intense purging binge recently, I found an old charcoal sketch dating way back to my high school years. Previously, I had shared it with friends, then promptly packed it away. Memories came flooding back about the strictness of the art classes I suffered through. The anxiety to follow the teacher’s lesson plan and produce perfect results always impacted my desire to express myself outside the artistic box. While sitting in the midst of a pile of items, trying to decide what would stay or go, I opened my high school art case. As I rummaged through the paint-stained wooden case, my inspiration suddenly grabbed hold of me and I found my charcoal sticks and a collection of brushes and paints. The smell of linseed oil and streaks of yellow and blue oil paint inside the case reminded me that I was wrong to think that any expression of art required absolute neatness or perfect precision. These many, many, years later, I’ve come to realize that raw emotion matters so much more.

At this point in time, my focus is on my imagination which encourages me to delve into textures, bordering on the abstract, with a mixture of thick colors, on a brush which hits the canvas like a conductor leading an orchestra. Whether painting or sketching, in all the time that’s passed, art allows me to process complex feelings without using words, as I do each time I write here on my website. Creating something new helps to minimize my daily stress and any mistakes now feel like beautiful new opportunities rather than failures.

That one old sketch was an important reminder on how creating, anything, should be done without regimentation or fear.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write a post in exactly twelve (12) lines. Tell us about someone in your family who has artistic ability. Share an old photo and let it inspire a blog post.



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Footsteps…

Childhood has a strange way of preserving feelings long after it erases the details. The reason fades, faces blur. Yet, a hallway, a shadow, and a particular sound of footsteps can remain sharp for decades. Human memory apparently is run by an archivist who throws away the paperwork and keeps the ghosts.

As a child, I shudder still when I recall the endlessly stretching hallway where we lived, a tunnel of dim light and held breath. I thought I was small enough to disappear behind a half-open door, pressed against the wall as footsteps echoed closer. Each creak of the floorboards felt like a warning and I watched his shadow arrive before he did. The apartment seemed to hold its breath with me. I don’t remember why I was hiding anymore, only the feeling of the cold knot in my stomach, the silence between heartbeats and the certainty that being found would change something forever.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Talk about a time you hid from someone.

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Curiously Peeking…

We all get that restless, tingling sensation that pushes us to peek behind a curtain or over some wall, ask “why”, and embrace the uncomfortable beauty of not knowing which is curiosity at its best.

The most fascinating thing about being inquisitive is that such an action rarely operates in a straight line. It evolves into a tangled web of exploration, of rabbit holes, where one seemingly random question, like why do cats purr, can unexpectedly lead you to learn about things you never imagined; that curiosity can incite feelings about doing things over again, if possible.

This brings up the burning question about if there was the chance to do something all over again, and what it might be, would be to approach the traditional pursuit of knowledge with far less traditional reverence. A chance to avoid extensive research where a test, project or specific destination was involved might find any of us jumping on the “just for fun” bandwagon.

Personally, I would latch onto the freedom of allowing myself to study totally impractical subjects simply because I found them fascinating. Then, I’d acknowledge any and all “stupid” questions and lose the fear of looking foolish while asking the fundamental questions which unlock deep understandings rather than just playing along to avoid judgment.

In the end, when all is said and done, if I had a do-over, I wouldn’t change the depth of my curiosity, rather just the freedom of it, allowing it to wander further, like a drunken sailor, untethered from mundane conventionality, into the great unknown.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write a post inspired by the word curious./Write a post in 8 sentences./If you could do it over again, what would it be? What would you do differently?

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