I’m not very old, but old enough to see that if I ever want to be an artist I should stop postponing: I don’t want to reach the end of my life having been too afraid to try.
I was good at science. I thought of training to be an artist in college, yet I had my doubts about whether I could earn a living with my skills. Hence, I got a degree in science and used it and enjoyed it. But my mind could never stop seeing things I wanted to paint; art was everywhere, persistently tapping on my shoulder. We all have a sense of the beauty all around us, but this beauty would electrify me, making my hands itch to give a go at trying to capture it.
So, last year I made a vow to paint every day and to start showing it to others. The progress was painful. There were days that were so discouraging that it was all I could do to go into my studio the next day feeling like another failure was waiting for me. I kept all the paintings and occasionally I would go back through them and I could see that I was improving, erratically, but still improving. There were glimpses that maybe it would all work out and I could paint pleasingly — that I could look at something beautiful and understand how to express it with paint. At least a little.
Thus, every day I paint. I don’t wait for the muse. I just put in the time and sometimes it is rewarded.
I love to paint lonely landscapes: trees, far-away mountains and hills, big skies. I feel pulled toward them. I don’t paint because I have a tortured soul. I don’t paint to make a statement or to raise social awareness. I paint because the world is dizzyingly beautiful and I want to see if I can place a portion of that on my canvases.
Every day is still frightening. Every day could be filled with another failure, but “nevertheless she persisted.” I will not die having not tried.
Member: Outdoor Painters of Minnesota; SouthEastern Minnesota Visual Artists (SEMVA).