I’ve never really created artwork in series. It’s one of the things Muriel (my inner mean girl) uses to try and convince me I’m not really a ‘serious’ artist. Muriel can take a flying leap, because here is Number five (hear that Muriel? FIVE! in a series. So there) of first birthday portraits of our grandbabies.
As a writer, I know how much words matter. The right words here, or the wrong word there, can change the intention, the power and meaning of my writing. The words we speak are no different. They have the power to slice deep, wounding in ways we cannot see. When enough of those wounds land on a heart it can be shredded beyond repair.
Sometimes the things we believe hold us hostage. Stop us from trying something new or doing something brave. These words may or may not be a poem, but spilling them out in my journal helped me understand that while I may be quite attached to some of the things I believe, they don’t serve me well anymore.
One of the most rewarding things about this artist gig is that sometimes I get to create special pieces – tiny touchstones, with love poured into them for those situations in our lives when words are hard to find, and fail miserably to convey what we hold in our hearts.
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