This is something I have been saying and telling myself for years.
It has been because, the ghost of a voice from my past has never quite quieted. The voice that told me I don't hold the brush right. My colour blends aren't smooth enough. There is no place in painting for expression. This voice has whispered in my ear for close to two decades.
I have known all along that the voice was wrong. It came from a limited-minded-control-freak who used me for her own agenda. Yet, still I carried her voice with me.
Strange how we do that.
I can convince myself of almost anything, yet without meaning to, I create a space of limitation and minimalistic thought. To achieve great glory in a box.
So I painted. I painted with purpose, with vision. A gift for an admired friend who I know would appreciate something that money can't buy. But what happened was something else.
That voice is gone. I can't hear her anymore. What I awoke to was a song that sang wake up. "Get up and create."
So I did, and I am.
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