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Healing Space

People often ask how long I've been painting. It all started in June, 2003 while I struggled to reconcile abuse that occurred when I was ten years old. Episcopal Pathways magazine has just featured this back story in an article published today called "Enduring Truths." As the author notes,  I was "stuck at ten" until much later when I was able to forgive what had happened to me and the people involved.

My art career, with its very stumbling beginnings, has blossomed over the past 17 years in ways I could never have anticipated. I owe a lot of my ability to experiment with paint to the fact I began and continue to use oil as my primary medium for expression. I joke with students that I use oil paint because it's so forgiving—and I need all the forgiveness I can get!

It's true that oil allows me the space to make—and correct—first moves that I later come to see could be improved. I've learned not to call these mistakes for, as a more experienced artist once pointed out, these may become part of an interesting color and texture history on the canvas. Likewise, I encourage anyone who asks me for advice, to forgive whatever they see as not-perfect. Instead of trying to rub out or scrape off imperfections, use those moves as the basis for some further evolution. By embracing the so-called mistakes, the work often comes alive with a quality of Something More.

In this lifetime, I'm committed to freeing up my creative energies as much as possible, so forgiving whatever gets in the way of that makes a lot of sense to me. I've recently rediscovered that letting go of ancient resentments—the kind from the long ago that rarely surface, or are so much a part of daily life I can't even see them—frees up a LOT of energy I didn't even realize was bound up! (If you follow the progression of my new work, I think you'll see what I mean.)

I believe it is an eternal truth that the freedom we seek is already seeking us.  Oil paint isn't the only forgiving medium; we too are capable of forgiveness--of ourselves and others! To this end, whenever I remember a grudge I've been holding or even just a sour thought, I've now been practicing a forgiveness exercise I came across recently. I've been amazed by how much energy I've had after using it only a week!

As was the case 17 years ago, I'm now wondering what might happen if I continue to forgive absolutely everyone on my Very Long List. I might make some pretty amazing paintings, right ? But, please, let me not get ahead of myself .... Instead, enjoy with me a taste of freedom right now!

With warmest wishes for a forgiving and painterly Thanksgiving week,

Ellie

Please bear with me as I share a story about "Into the Deep," the painting pictured here. Last Thursday morning, I completed this painting. I'd been working on it for several days, taking it through many intuited changes to a place where it seemed to say, "Enough!" I stepped away, planning to sign it when once it had a chance to dry.

It was a sunny, Indian Summer kind of day, one of the last before winter and a good day to take the kayaks out. Roo was game so we loaded up and headed to the Upper Platte, about 20 miles from home. I'd not been out all summer, but I seemed to slip easily into the river's rhythm. It had been several years since we'd been on this stretch and, in memory, it promised to be a gentle paddle; for the first 90 minutes it was just that. Then, a moment came when I misjudged the current and, instead of scooting past the tree sticking out into the stream, I was headed right toward it.

Now, on the lazy summer days I'd kayaked previously, this might not have been a problem. On this November afternoon, however, after a week of heavy rains, the river was full and running much faster than anticipated. Instead of gently banging up against the tree branches, the current pushed me full force directly up against it, filling my kayak with water and dumping me overboard. In an instant, my head was caught between the log in the water and my boat. While Roo struggled to push the log out of the way (filling his kayak too),  the downstream force of the current was far too strong to contend with.

Instinctively, I realized the only way out was down and, plunging under the cold water I was able to pull it out of the vise-like grip of the current and free my head. As I slogged up onto the muddy bank, I  said aloud, to myself, Roo and whoever else wanted to know, "I'm okay. I'm okay." I was okay but I was also soaked to the bone and shaking from the shock. While Roo dumped the water out of kayaks, I tried without success to wring out my clothing. We still had another couple of hours to go on the river ....

Without recounting the entire saga of ensuing misadventures, at one point it occurred to me that we might not survive. (It was later confirmed by a more experienced outdoors-man that we were in serious danger of hypothermia.) In between fervent appeals for Help from Above, I realized I'd never considered that I might die in this way. Then, I wondered, if I were to die, who would paint my paintings? (Leave it to an artist to have these kind of thoughts whilst having a near death experience!)

Once home and finally warm enough again to think halfway clearly, I saw the painting I'd finished before we set off on our "gentle paddle." Now, it seemed somehow prescient, telling a story that had not yet taken place. Having climbed out of that turbulent flow (perhaps something to do with current events, you might ask ...), I began to consider meta-meanings to this story. I believe what happened to me had less to do with river safety than the state of my Life and Art.

The Creative Artist-Within beckons: "Don't be fooled by surface conditions," she says. "Go into the Deep." Only there (and not in a Facebook news feed) will Something More be revealed. Only there in the Realm beyond the Obvious will you find the true freedom you seek. As you can see, I've now signed the painting. I've got it well-placed in my Studio where I can keep an eye on it, however. Or, perhaps it's more accurate that it wants to keep an eye on me, making sure I do a good job of following instructions.

Thanks for supporting my unfolding Art & my hardly-a-dull-moment Life!

Ellie