Well, life goes on, and some times the art does not. lots of family crisis, friends in need, and just hard times over the past month. So what has kept me from folding under all the stress? Drawing. Just drawing. Anything, and everything. Just pick up a pencil wherever I am, Dr. office, hospital, while on "hold", and I am transported...to that calm, quiet place where everything makes sense. Shapes, form and line all come together like ocean waves, each one working with the next to make the whole.
Drawing is my first friend. When I was little, my crayons were my playmates, each color had a unique personality, and I knew them well. Then at 8, I discovered pastels, and the world was never the same again. My Mom got me my first REAL set of pastels when I was 12, and I would just look at the range of colors, and feel the texture, swooning like a lover. It hasn't changed.
Throughout this past month I have taken time to organize all the hundreds of pastels I have collected over the past 40 years. Throwing out old broken boxes and little, unusable bits, has been cathartic for me. I've been doing this in the wee hours when I can't sleep, worrying about a loved one, and like my old crayons, it has comforted me.
Sometimes we need that time away from producing to go back to the play that got us here... and isn't that what it's about?
