For many, many years I considered myself an artist. That was my identity. After majoring in art I gave the artist life
a shot and a few years in I felt rejected and done. I could never sell my work consistently and
my passion for working on 6’ dark and moody nude paintings did not help that
endeavor. However, I did not try very
hard to find my audience either. Looking
back, working for an artist agent who will remain nameless hurt me the
most. I’d see how the cheesy talentless
artists she represented sold the most work while the ones who really put their
soul into it suffered immensely. I see
now that those artists were my mirror.
Perhaps I expected to suffer.
Perhaps success was too flattering and embarrassing. Perhaps I was entitled.
I don’t need to know the
answer because the girl who stopped painting is no longer me. I’ve changed and can’t understand her logic
or feelings so closely anymore. When I
stopped painting on a regular basis I knew that I just had to. Assured by my knowing
that I would eventually return to my passion of painting, I simply let it
go. Massage school fulfilled my intuitive
and kinesthetic urges for the time being.
As I began to feel comfortable in my work as a massage therapist, the need
for creative expression continued to rear its head especially as I began to
open up more spiritually through Myofascial Release.
Myofascial Release became
my greatest passion and admittedly still holds its rank. Myofascial Unwinding completely changed my
life with its ability to not only connect me with my higher self but to allow
me to be myself more and more each day.
During an unwinding the person expresses raw emotion. Their body writhes
sometimes so forcefully and dramatically that you know without a doubt that
something, some being or some energy is moving it. There is no conscious volition, no ego. It peels back the unwanted layers that life
has left heavy on our souls. It takes
you back in time, sometimes farther back than you can believe. Somehow it unlocked my creative block. I taught myself to sew and took a ceramics class. Still leery of painting I kept it safe by
painting on furniture and things like that.
When I did try to paint I found myself stuck in the same boring
landscape technique. So I kept painting in
the later bin.
Then my friend who is
also deeply invested in Myofascial Release brought me to an art workshop at
Melissa Harris’ studio in Hurley, NY. My
intention for the workshop was to heal my relationship with painting. I let myself really feel the disappointment and hurt of my
previous attempt as an artist. On the
drive there I cried as I talked about my perceived failures and felt myself
young again. It didn’t feel like the
current “me”. Then we got there and started
painting. It felt so fucking good. I just can’t tell you how nourishing it
felt. My subject matter was more
interesting and diverse because of the new experiences I have had and the
widening of my own consciousness. I also
noticed a correlation between not painting and my mounting TMJ pain which has
been getting better since the workshop.
I had a breakthrough during an MFR treatment the day before the workshop
so I attribute much of it to that but that feeling that it is connected to my
art and to sex (my creative abilities) can’t escape me.
So I’m back. I know I’m back. In what capacity I can’t say yet. I’m sure there will always be an ebb and
flow. But I now know that this is part
of my spiritual growth. It is a part of
me that I need. I used to say that the
reason I didn’t write sappy poetry or paint anymore was because I was more
emotionally mature now so I didn’t need to do those things. Well, I think that is bullshit and pretty
egotistical of me to say. So cheers to
painting and to being vulnerable. Cheers
to feeling young again and all of its darkness and all of its light.
Some paintings from the weekend workshop:
