'Smores are good, and my spirit's getting nourished even more. Somehow, here, I'm not ashamed to set my intellect aside to become a student of my heart. My heart's whispers - they're my weakest signal at home. I used to hear my heart whispering and painted what I heard. Back, as an art student, I had idealistic fervor that art could bypass anyone's prejudices and head straight to the heart. "Here's my soul" my art blared.
But people passed it by, so I figured i wasn't blaring it loud enough. And since I believed good art is art that sells, and I needed to put food on my plate, I turned to making art people bought. Until I couldn't stomach making that 'art' anymore.
Now I'm thinking "What the h***". Let my heart's sensitivity show. Blare what my soul whispers here: that all hearts really beat together, beneath all the 'circumstances'. If I ignore my fears I can glimpse this. Here.
My muses inspire
I ran into my 'Maine' friend, the artist Elizabeth Ostrander, this afternoon. She has a few pieces in the show opening tonight and invited me. If there's any artist who reveals the tender soul in her work, it's Elizabeth. I head to her show in a few minutes.
Peace in your heart. I want her brave soul, but I'll have to find mine, instead.