You May Find Yourself: A Creation Story

I’ve been walking aimlessly around the studio. It’s the low after the high of Open Studio. After weeks of planning, prepping and coordinating to make it happen I’m lost in the studio. The work is still up so I’m taking advantage of the emptiness to clean, sort and toss once more. I’m determined to clean out my storage loft once and for all of my 17 years of teaching materials. I still have student work in boxes for when I thought I’d write a book about teaching and learning. Not going to happen. To the dump with a prayer.

I am enjoying the time to pull out paintings that are not yet done. I line them all up, sit on the sofa and look. I cover corners with my hand close to my eyes to see whether shapes need to be continued or deleted. In my head, I change colors, size and saturation. What’s the move that will excite and bring joy? Where’s the shift that creates a gasp?

Do you ever stop to ask yourself why you’re doing what you’re doing? And how are you doing it? Do you even know what you’re doing, really?

“And you may ask yourself well, How did I get here?” – Talking Heads Once in A Lifeteime

Lull time. When I’m not laser focused these questions haunt me. The kaleidoscope just shifted and the colors are self re-organizing. Old school ARTificial Intelligence. So I thank my Open Studio visitors who ask:

“How did you get into encaustic?”

“How did I get here?”

Where is my large studio?

Through books. By taking them apart and putting them back together with wax, my symbolic narrative of how my world began and how I first came to inhabit it was created.

Before Encaustic (BE) days were dark and deep.