COMPRESSING TIME
October 2016
At age 77 I am aware
of how compressed the remainder of my life is becoming and the tension this
creates within me. There is still work to be done, aspirations to be met, and
lofty dreams that refuse to acknowledge a limited future.
The problem is not
that I have not done all that I set out to do, but that I continue to discover new
paths that I want to travel, and more work that I want to do. My art is slowly
improving, but there is so much more to learn. Forty years ago I promised myself, and my patients, that I
would strive to create the best work I am capable of doing, and I have not yet
done that…I know I can do better. I recently had the opportunity to see some
outstanding art that has inspired me to push the boundaries of my own work. At
the same time I saw several pastel paintings of mine that were completed about
15 years ago, and realized I wanted to return to that medium that holds so much
promise.
And there is more. I
want to write. I am enticed by the satisfaction and fulfillment of conveying an
idea, a message, or a memory, using words instead of paint. Writing has become
as important to me as my art. Beyond the craft of writing, is the desire to
share my story and the lessons life has taught me. I believe I have something to offer, in spite of the doubts
and insecurities that constantly hang over me.
When I look into all
the tomorrows through my rose colored glasses I see books and essays waiting to
be written and paintings to be painted, a daunting challenge because I still
need my quiet time for reflection as well as my afternoon nap. So much yet to
do – so little time – so much insecurity and doubt – so much stress – and I would
not trade it for anything. I consider myself fortunate to be right where I am.
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