Real Friends
Over the last couple of months, I have had much I’ve wanted to write about here: an invitation to do a project that was outside of my comfort zone; taking a workshop out-of-state and stretching my envelope in exploring encaustic techniques.
Instead, I’ve been paralyzed. By grief. By anger. By severe disappointment. My brother died, although not totally unexpectedly, almost immediately upon the death of a dearly beloved pet (of 23 years). Rather than retreat to my studio, I withdrew from art almost as an act of sacrifice. How could I work at something that would help me, perhaps heal me, when everything around me was going to hell in a hand basket? Even in reaching out to those I thought were friends, I’ve discovered just how shallow and frivolous several of them really are—soooooo wrapped up in themselves.
Well, the tide has started to turn recently when I met another artist for a quick art exhibit visit and lunch. Being with her was like having a cup of fresh water gently poured over a parched, dying flower. It isn’t that we did or talked about anything of great significance. It was just being with someone with a similar open-minded curiosity about all kinds of art, who can converse about works intelligently and thoughtfully, and who is authentic in her own art and in all of her interactions. It allowed me to come up for air, to breathe, to really see much of the beauty that surrounds us. She allowed me to be simply the person that I am. And in talking about her work, her experiences, and exchanging thoughts, I felt called (or encouraged ) to return to my own work and challenges.
A good friend has recently reminded me that we as artists have been given a talent, and it is important to do something with it, as best as we possibly can. That isn’t arrogance or selfishness. It is our way of giving back. I totally agree with this, but would add that an important part of how to do this, is to surround ourselves with people who allow us to be who we are, who support us by simply being there, listening and accepting us. Then encouraging us—no, challenging us—to be better. And then cheer us on when we make it.
Instead, I’ve been paralyzed. By grief. By anger. By severe disappointment. My brother died, although not totally unexpectedly, almost immediately upon the death of a dearly beloved pet (of 23 years). Rather than retreat to my studio, I withdrew from art almost as an act of sacrifice. How could I work at something that would help me, perhaps heal me, when everything around me was going to hell in a hand basket? Even in reaching out to those I thought were friends, I’ve discovered just how shallow and frivolous several of them really are—soooooo wrapped up in themselves.
Well, the tide has started to turn recently when I met another artist for a quick art exhibit visit and lunch. Being with her was like having a cup of fresh water gently poured over a parched, dying flower. It isn’t that we did or talked about anything of great significance. It was just being with someone with a similar open-minded curiosity about all kinds of art, who can converse about works intelligently and thoughtfully, and who is authentic in her own art and in all of her interactions. It allowed me to come up for air, to breathe, to really see much of the beauty that surrounds us. She allowed me to be simply the person that I am. And in talking about her work, her experiences, and exchanging thoughts, I felt called (or encouraged ) to return to my own work and challenges.
A good friend has recently reminded me that we as artists have been given a talent, and it is important to do something with it, as best as we possibly can. That isn’t arrogance or selfishness. It is our way of giving back. I totally agree with this, but would add that an important part of how to do this, is to surround ourselves with people who allow us to be who we are, who support us by simply being there, listening and accepting us. Then encouraging us—no, challenging us—to be better. And then cheer us on when we make it.
posted by Candy at 6:16 PM
1 Comments:
Candy, my sincere condolences on the passing of your brother and the loss of your beloved pet, too. What a horrible and dark time for you.
I'm thankful to your artist friend who turned on that light inside of you again. Anyone who can do that is indeed a real friend.
Encouragement and inspiration can come from some of the most unexpected people, places, or even music. Most recently I have found inspiration in a song that I now play at the beginning of every day in my art studio - "Hold on Tight to Your Dream" by Electric Light Orchestra. It reminds me what all of my hard work and struggles were for - to reach my dream of being an artist. Give it a listen and see if it revives your artistic spirit when it seems to be hiding.
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