Yes, you, dear men and women of the Western cultures. What scares you most? Is it spiders? Or, roaches? Maybe heights, or flying?
Now, if you have strong fears, I'll bet there are some things about painting that keep you up at night.
Nearly all my of life, I have been afraid of spiders. So much so, that I couldn't even look at photos of them in magazines. But, nature finds a way.
One day, my Ell won the fifth grade class's tarantula. That's right.
T A R A N T U L A.
I was clearly stuck. If I expressed my true terror of the ghastly thing, why, I'd be the laughing stock of the classroom. Ell would know for sure that I am really some kind of cowering, simpering fraud after all those years of being...
Mother: The Force of Nature (echo, echo, echo).
Her name was Molly. We brought her home and started collecting crickets for her. We added to her name. She became Molly Francesca Gomezina. She was the subject of many a monotype and a very long poem/book.
I learned to hold her in my hand. Before she died, she graced us with a phenomenal event. She molted. This is her molt that you see me holding today.
Maybe we don't have to be afraid of paint. Maybe we can paint with abandon, knowing that there are scarier things in the world; and that nature and pigment and canvas are not any of those things. Makes the brush a lot less intimidating, doesn't it?
Be brave.
Yes, you, dear men and women of the Western cultures. What scares you most? Is it spiders? Or, roaches? Maybe heights, or flying?
Now, if you have strong fears, I'll bet there are some things about painting that keep you up at night.
Nearly all my of life, I have been afraid of spiders. So much so, that I couldn't even look at photos of them in magazines. But, nature finds a way.
One day, my Ell won the fifth grade class's tarantula. That's right.
T A R A N T U L A.
I was clearly stuck. If I expressed my true terror of the ghastly thing, why, I'd be the laughing stock of the classroom. Ell would know for sure that I am really some kind of cowering, simpering fraud after all those years of being...
Mother: The Force of Nature (echo, echo, echo).
Her name was Molly. We brought her home and started collecting crickets for her. We added to her name. She became Molly Francesca Gomezina. She was the subject of many a monotype and a very long poem/book.
I learned to hold her in my hand. Before she died, she graced us with a phenomenal event. She molted. This is her molt that you see me holding today.
Maybe we don't have to be afraid of paint. Maybe we can paint with abandon, knowing that there are scarier things in the world; and that nature and pigment and canvas are not any of those things. Makes the brush a lot less intimidating, doesn't it?
Be brave.
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