Same painting. Different lights. It's funny, I've been doing this for over 10 years but I still get sent baffled emails asking for clarification. Sometimes I assume it's obvious. Sometimes I just like talking to the ones who know, like you. If you know, you know.
Acrylic, phosphorescent pigment, glass.
I really have no words. It took such a huge part of my soul (and life) to make this. Everything I've ever said on Patreon is wrapped up in this painting. The words exchanged in private-- In fear; in trust; in support. Two years now. I feel black and white and every color in between.
What you see above is my life. The salvation of my life.
The fingerprint of my life.
Which is maybe the only reason I'm still doing any of this. What else is there? For a moment I was prepared to give it up. Sometimes I doubt my purpose because it's superfluous ~ art in general. It's neither food nor oxygen, though it does better than either at keeping me alive. Is it selfish to nourish myself with art? I wonder. It seems so natural and balanced to me, but some people get so angry about it.
This painting kept me as steady as I could wish for. If I'd had nothing else to tether myself to I fear I would have spun out uncontrollably. It gave me focus -- like a map. It lead me through winding and endless caves into the light.
Finally. After two years.
I've been painting endlessly since this piece left for Oregon. Finishing things, starting new things. I feel all uncorked. Something has changed again. I don't know by what mysterious process I am being healed, but I love all the blank canvas and opportunity spreading out before me. It is medicine. It feels like hope and adventure.
Time to keep living my story. I'm starting to plan chapters way in advance now.