Sharika Roland

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A hospital is like slow motion. The building might have windows but you can’t open them. You are in a huge building for  days and days running the maze of hallways , running toward that one room, where your Dad lays helpless.The man that was strong and a shield for you, is now a little sick old man who needs a lot of attention.  Hours tick by and you are just treading water in a sea of confusion. So many different people filter into the room poking and  sticking needles and shoving him around like a sack of potatoes. This man who was my reliable shore to always have to go to. Now he is in a different place. Nobody knows him here. They don’t know the great things he did in the past 89 years.

He is just a man in a bed to them, a man who is yelling at them to stop hurting him. Begging them to stop. I want them to tell him they see him and care but they can’t. There are so many others to take care of  who also have long histories and people and stories.

It is like watching a movie that you are in but the script gets changed every day.

The vortex … makes home seem incredibly friendly by contrast.

The nurses try and sooth us but they are tired and the doctors are tired and nobody is happy there. How can you be with all that suffering  and aloneness and stuckness.

The paintings in the hospital are like steams of water in a desert . They are so important and a wonderful distraction for the sameness of the horrible hallways and machines and monotony.

It makes me want to scoop all the people in the beds and take them to the beach to recuperate with the windows open and the sea wind swirling into the rooms to wash all their fears away.

I brought Dad in some lavender oil to have to take away the hospital and he said it was marvelous.

He kissed my hand.

I was in the studio today working away at finishing some paintings. It was quiet and simple and sweet. I was reflecting on why I paint almost the same thing a million times, why it does not get old to me or boring or dreary. No two paintings are even a little alike to me. They each have their own mood and energy and personality. They each say something different to me. Are they a reflection of some aspect of me over and over.. No. they are not anything like me. They are new people.

When I am working I feel like I am not alone. Ever.  This new person is speaking to me.

And the greatest thing of all is they each speak something different to anyone who looks at them. Are people that you meet ever boring.. No they are full of infinity and how can that become even the  least bit dull. all the stars in the sky are similar but you never get used to the first look as they peak out at night. The waves come in and go out forever but they are each a new minute to ponder the fact that the ocean is a big place with a horizon.

That is how I see the paintings I do. That is how I want anyone who looks at them to experience them.  always new always interesting always immediate.

I find that after I get back from a trip, and a few months go by , the trip starts to leak out into my life and things that I saw awhile ago start showing up in my work.

I saw some Mama Anderson paintings that were so beautiful and haunting and intoxicating and now those colors are coming into my new work. almost all pastel colors and soft raw sienna. Just a hint of a blush .

Last week I was doing tropical colors because I was remembering Kauai and this week I am steeped in New York winter colors.

You can’t really control what you do if you are a real artist or should you. It is not about what I like or want even. The work has a mind of its own. I wouldn’t have it any other way. If was up to me I would wreck it by overthinking. Overthinking is death to any art form. You only have to have to hear the command and obey the voices you hear and the rest  is done for you. being an artist is a lot like having faith. You don;t have to understand everything before you just trust that it is being dolled out to you and all you have to do is catch it as it goes by. Like a baseball, Just catch it and be with it and let it unfold.

 

 

We have a vacation house in Soap Lake that is super quiet. There are big expanses of sky and desert to gaze on out every window. The heat is also wonderful for getting in your bones and slowing down your mind. Some friends of mine went there when it was 104 outside and the air conditioner was on the fritz. (it is fixed now) But while it was really hot it was healing to me.

You just had to sit around in the heat in the house that was like 80 degrees which is pretty warm for inside but it felt good to me. Heat slows my brain down.

sitting in the house with the curtains drawn to keep the heat out was sort of like being in an isolation tank. It felt good. I am not a fan of air-conditioning. If it is hot I just like to be hot and experience it totally and lean into it.

It makes me think more creatively when I slow down and get quiet. The quieter you can get the better.

All this plus the salty water at soap lake makes this a perfect place for a creativity retreat and that is what we are going to do.

My husband and I are taking 10 people on an adventure to soak in the warm pool of contemplation and exploration in an environment that was tailored for just this.More to come…