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the first fruits

I had no idea how to do this thing, but it didn’t matter. It is a lot like confronting a new canvas. Pure white untouched by your brush yet. waiting to be created on.

that is what it was like. Waiting to be created on. I was a blank canvas.

I remember a story about a choreographer who just went into the studio and started stomping around till she had an idea. A step , a start of a new dance.

I went to the church across the street from my apartment. First Presbyterian . Across from my place.

all brick and beautiful. I marched in with my son and we sat in the back. They put a daisy on my lapel to show I was a new person so people would talk to me. A sweet thing really. I liked it. Graham Kerr was sitting in the pew in front of us( My son and myself)  He was pretty famous for being the Galloping Gourmet. I had seen him on TV and now he was in front of me. So that was my first church experience as a new Christian. I think God had a sense of humor and knew what would impress me. Yeah it did. They wrote out the sermon and handed it out before you came in so you could read and listen at the same time. I still think that is a great idea. Keep you focused. I like the daisy too.

I knew zero. So I listened to the service and tried to learn the lingo. I was just day dreaming because it was totally foreign to me. Like listening to a service in Spanish.

Dude I was there to learn how to do this thing that happened to me. I have to remember this because after you are in the know after 30 years , all that becomes second nature to you. But at first it is Spanish. You tend to forget that when you are a pro. What it feels like when you know zero.

but it turned out zero is a great place to be…

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Who cares what I think

Do you care what people think?? Not just about you but about how they really think in their heart of hearts.

I was asking myself if I go around with a mask on. I would say yes. I am trying to not do that in this blog. The opportunity in a blog is more than just share ideas that others could use. Maybe being transparent has some value too. I know that I crave someone sharing their experience living in this world with me.  So this whole Lent blog is about that. Plus find a mission statement along the way.

I don’t even know who I am writing to. But if I died today I would want to have said this so here goes.

Jumping in the water.

I used to hate Christians . I used to think they were self absorbed arrogant hypocrites that were always pointing their finger at me, So I hate them.

I know how that feels.

But then I was confronted with this thinking when a friend had become one and I knew he wouldn’t do anything stupid like that unless it was true. That is the part that scared me. What if it is true? I never asked myself that before. I was easier to just not ask that and have a million reasons to think it was all untrue. I fancied myself as being honest but I never questioned my beliefs either. Even though I was raised Catholic and had to go to church as a kid, the second I moved out I stopped that and felt righteous about it. Smug even, Yeah I would say smug. Because I was so smart.

So I was a little scared that maybe I was wrong and I did not want to be wrong. Plus what if it is true. Then I would have God on my side so that seemed good. But my friends will reject me because I would too if I were them.

I was scared to lose them. I was scared to lose God too.

But nobody wants to lose your friends. Luckily my closest friends did not reject me. I still had them so that was a mercy. Some people don’t get that luxury. Sometimes parents reject you . It could have been worse.  I just know how I felt when I looked at Christians before.

Now I was one and how did that affect my art. Did I have to paint religious pictures now. I wasn’t sure what the rules were.

I remember it was pretty weird to change immediately  from no to yes. I wondered what God was going to be like. How does this thing work?? Is He going to let me know somehow what to do. Apparently it is all written down in a book . I never looked at that book before. It is not something Catholics do. You would think that in 12 years in Catholic school they would have us look at it,

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Inside

My Dad and Me

It is impossible for artists to hide their insides. Any creative art will just spill out what is inside of your head and heart whether you try and hide it or not. It is like a red flag waving in the sun. Everyone can see it except you.  My painting always felt outside of me. It is easier that way to be objective about your work so you won’t  be vulnerable.

What a laugh. It was outside of me like a hole in the head.

Everyone has a valuable and unique experience .

This is just mine.

Art Therapy is a fantastic way to explore what you are actually thinking. Most people don’t do it , but artists can’t not do it. When you are young you don’t know this though. Its all about careers and talent and shows and identity in a more abstract way.

Hopefully when you are older , there is more reflection.

Mission Statement, looking at your reflection in a pool..

You don’t want to die without knowing your mission statement.

I am grateful for Ann Rae and her challenging mission statement question.She said that it is not what you think. Its not just describing your art. It’s more than that.

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mad

So what was I so mad at? My paintings were pretty violent back then. Lots of black and red slashes and bleeding things. How I had anyone like that stuff is unknowable to me. I was rash and arrogant. Where was that coming from? who knows. All the things you do when you are in your 20s if you feel absurdly confident and mad. But in my mind I remember angry meant strength.

I was like that for a long time in all ways that you can be. Risk taking , fearless, stupid(looking back) But I was sarcastic too. Oh that was the best strength . Slash that wit around and show everyone how strong and tough you are. I used people, manipulated people and was used in return. But you could not tell me I was anything but super nice. Funny how we cannot see ourselves when we are young.

I remember thinking how honest I was about life. I was intelligent  and realistic.  In my mind I was right  about everything, I never questioned anything I thought. Or how I came to those conclusions. I had zero to come to those conclusions.

I remember once standing on a corner in Berkeley California and this guy came up to me and looked me in the eye and said.” You are unhappy'”  Just like that he came up to  me a total stranger .  I practically spit on him. Boy. I sure showed him who was happy.  Its funny now but I remember telling my friends  about that and they thought I was psycho to get so angry at him like I did.  I was psycho but did not know it.

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Sand

Sand gets into your shoes when you walk on the beach no matter what you do. The grains are as tiny as they can be. It is hard to imagine that once the grains of sand were a big rock. Rocks seem so stable and forever , but they turn into sand eventually. Sands of time.

It is hard to imagine timelessness. Eternity. It hurts to imagine it .

My Grandmother lived to be 101. She used to say “I worked so hard but that made me better. She had obstacles to overcome . She had a husband who refused to learn English when they came over from Hungary. Can you imagine how hard that must have been on her  and the five kids. No, the kids did not learn Hungarian.  But she did manage to create a little empire consisting of a huge garden ,five successful children,  spectacular cook and sew and knit, handmade everything.  She brought the alter flowers every Sunday to the Catholic Church. from her own garden.  Florists bought flowers from her.She grew grapes and made wine and sold it. Same for eggs and clothes. Oh and she worked full time till she was pretty old. She worked in a cannery for 20 years then worked as head cook for a well known family .

I think about her more the older I get.

The rocks of stability I had in my life. All 4 grandparents were like this. Not a slacker in the bunch . Parents that were likewise . Stable Stable Stable. I was given so much.

Was I grateful as a 20 year old??? heck no. The walk in the desert continues.

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