I started out my working life as a registered nurse. When I'd reached the end of how I could best serve within the context of Western Medicine, I discovered a calling to ministry. When I'd given what I could to organized religion, I got the word: Do Art.
I've served many people throughout my adulthood. Now I serve Beauty and find her muse is far more demanding than any patient or congregation. The job of a painter is a tough one.
I get up in the morning, eat breakfast and head out. I lug my backpack filled with easel, brushes and paint wherever I need to go for the day's work. I puzzle over the challenges of compostion, values and color. I weather the elements; and, when the light changes significantly, or the painting is complete, I pack up and hike back to my car.
On good days, I am pleased with panel I hold in my hands. Often, I feel humbled by how much there is still yet to learn. I spend hours trying to understand what's less than lovable. Usually, it's that I didn't look carefully enough, failed to pay sufficient attention or loved too much the wrong things.
The process of working at art is no doubt arduous. But it's also satisfying and meaningful. The product of art-making, the work of art, possesses something inspired and alive, something imbued with truth and beauty, something born of joy designed for enjoyment.
I hope you'll enjoy and be inspired by the images and writing in this blog.