It's funny how I can get so caught up in unimportant stuff. But somehow painting brings me back to center, it is a solace for whatever is bothering me. It's my way of making things right. I'm fortunate to be able to paint. When he has time, my husband is a fiction writer and it's the same for him. Here's a passage from a new short story he's written and I think it sums up why we do it..
"the unmitigated, dispassionate pursuit of truth,
unhindered by incursions from reality, having to deal with
the constant fear that it will all lead nowhere, with peril and mistakes
lurking at every turn, the
work laborious, a slow accumulation of minor advances with surprising tangents,
each new result suggesting a hitherto unseen direction, with moments of elation
followed by harsh setbacks, confidence in one’s ideas reduced to despair, but
yet there remains the imperative siren song, calling him to continue".