The above image,”Letting You Go” is from 2008. My oldest brother passed away, suddenly, in 2007. It was heart wrenching.My mother-in-law followed shortly, then a uncle and life became,despite my faith,like a war zone. In time, I kept getting images in my mind of this energy that moves thru the earth and into the skies…the souls and bits of pieces of us that are not really in our physical bodies. The trees around me hold the invisible nets that keep bouncing these entities and parts of us back down where they feel our pull, where we feel the need to keep reliving them.They struggle back thru the weight of the earth, our emotions, find a channel to rise up looking for release and try and find a way to move on, past the nets. At some point the energy can bust up, take flight and be free into the beautiful stratosphere I suppose we think of as heaven. In the energy space we are forever connected, forever feeling but the universe expands somehow and we breathe again. We let go.I did this drawing several times. I was never quite satisfied that that the beauty and weight in my mind met the paper. Kandinsky said we would, in the future, know artists by their ability to project a image from their mind,like a hologram.I have yet to develop this skill so I will continue making marks on a surface.
Time For School
For a good five years I drove my daughter down our semi-rural street in the early mornings to catch her bus, which came far to early, to Jr. High and High School, until the time she began to drive herself to school in her Jr. year. Things followed suit in my sons world as my daughter left for college…so I would sit at the end of our street those early mornings, in my PJs if possible, in the car, with my child. Hoping to send them off to school with love and support and everything they needed to have a good day. Despite my intense love teenagers don’t always give up up much. But the moment has been precious to me always, taking them to school. I have always been so painfully aware that this time as a parent is fleeting and our job is to set them free. On the good days and the bad days there is a tree on the hill of the bus stop. I thought one morning about how many times in the decade of running to the bus I have studied this tree. It has witnessed my joy and heartache as a parent. It was winter,last January I believe. I wished it was a no school day, to hear my son bumping around the house. The tree was there and seemed to say,”no, its time for school”.
I had my stuff together enough to enter it into a juried show,framed and ready to go last summer. Against a lot of other entries it was accepted and I was elated and nervous.I took my ailing mother one afternoon, who has almost always been excited by my art. The trek into the space was a huge effort for her. She beamed and was full of joy at the site of it. “its full of life!!” she exclaimed.She picked up the gallery guide,like the old days and perused the show. Arrived back at my piece,complemented the show and exclaimed again”but yours,yours is full of life,beautiful life!”
janespurplecrayon 