ALL summer I've been man-handled by a terrible Villain, "Painter's Block." He wears a plastic cape with a price tag and a logo created by the company who made him. Yesterday, I tore his plastic wrapping off his brand new bright white canvas body. That sinister canvas with its crinkled wrapper in a heap on the studio floor mocked me. Maybe he felt vulnerable without his shiny, protective cape and decided to put me in my place.
He slapped me with his bright whiteness, "Who are you?" he seethed through his teeth stained with gesso. Without even giving me time to defend myself he bombarded me with some of the most evil put downs I've ever heard. (I'll spare you, Dear Reader, I'm sure you have your own list in mind)
I cried. I called my husband, who is my "Phone a Friend" in situations like these.
My husband, true to his Superhero form told me it was OK. He wisely suggested that I think about Pollock who stared a blank canvas for days before finally standing up and facing the challenge. He advised me to to just get a pencil and start drawing. I cried to him, "I don't know how to draw! I don't know how to paint! I have lost every part of myself and it is not coming back!" I actually heard the commercial in my head saying, "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!"
Another Superhero in my life stopped by and gave me a hug and said the kindest words that melted my heart. Old friends can do that, you know? That sweet friend who is the bravest, boldest, most creative person I know gave me the strength to pick up the pencil and draw the lines. The lines (by magic) turned into a background, the background turned into my favorite thing - layers of paint and finally I was back off the ground and flying again.
The right side of my brain is awake now and it is talking to me instead of the canvas. It tells me about layers of paint, texture, positive and negative spaces. Except it thankfully does not use those words. It speaks in a language that I do not know how to tell you about. All is well now and that the EVIL canvas wrapper is where it belongs - in the recycling bin to later live a new life with better karma.
So watch out for those plastic cups, plates and forks. It may not just be the carcinogens that are messing with your brain. It just might be that same "Ugly Talking Recycled Plastic Villain" from my studio floor. If you find your self with a back talking plastic object in your hand (it could even be a shampoo bottle, or a cheap ink pen) remember where to find me. I will hand you a wooden pencil and tie a cape around your neck to send you to your happy place. "To Infinity and Beyond!"
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