I think I’ve always been
a visual artist, although it took a long time for me to know it. My favorite
activity in kindergarten was painting at the easel; I remember longing for it
to be my turn. My favorite crayon color back then was magenta. It had magic
powers. But school came, and grades
came, and life came. Art became doodles on envelopes to be thrown away.
I should have known when
I went to college. I took a class at Oberlin called “Revolution and Tradition
in Modern Art” and felt like I was seeing everything differently – 180 degrees
differently. The class was held in a large auditorium and every Monday and
Wednesday at 11 I would sit in darkness in the light of amazing paintings and
soak in the wonder of them. I took art history class after aft history class,
but art history wasn’t “serious academics”
-- so I didn’t take it seriously, either.
Fast forward 38 years to
an oil painting class at the Valley Art Center in Chagrin. My girlfriends
talked me into it; I just wanted to hang out with them. But with my first
painting I was a goner. Entranced, intrigued, enthralled, inspired, enamored,
Intimidated, intoxicated. I fell in love and I haven’t been the same since.
I’ve been painting a
little over two years now. Every painting is a journey of feeling and
expression. I paint primarily with a palette knife. I love lots of paint on the
canvas, love the way the colors move and shift under the knife. I try to
capture light, motion and moments filled with emotion. To my eye, the ordinary
is extraordinary.
I have earned my living
as a writer for over thirty-five years. Words have always been my playthings.
But I can’t tell how truly grateful I am to have traded them for tubes of paint
and a doorway to the soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment