Truth in the Time of Social Distancing

On New Year's Eve when I pulled the Angel Card "Risk," I thought I knew what it referred to. After all, for more than 2 years I'd been working on my art installation project BIRDS FLY IN: A Human Refuge—I was (and still am) on the brink of launching it at the Oliver Art Center. I anticipated a lot of risky work, expense and exposure in the coming year. I did not anticipate a global pandemic that would put so many lives on the line. Now, the term "high risk" has been applied to me and others in my age group. I never saw that coming!
I've only known a couple people who have actually taken ill with the coronavirus, but I know of no one whose life has not been affected by its presence in the world. While some have lost loved ones to the disease, others have lost their jobs and livelihood. Most of us have lost the sense of security with which we go about our daily lives. For the present, at least, it seems we're all walking on a razor's edge.
Still, most days we take the risk to get out of bed each morning to see what the day brings. And, on some days, we have the energy and will to see what we can bring to the day.
In the face of tremendous loss, disappointment, uncertainty and the grief that accompanies them, life asserts itself. In a lesson on values in oil painting, I recall a workshop leader remarking on "the positive aggression of light." He was pointing out how a black object in a sunlit scene appears lighter than a white object in a shadowed area. In another words, black is not black when seen in the light. He then went on to demonstrate how little light it takes to make that difference because light, like life, is aggressive, in a good way. In the face of tremendous loss, disappointment, uncertainty and the grief that accompanies them, life continually asserts itself. And, as it turns out, we, are the light that makes the difference in how things appear!
Have you noticed how these days of physical distancing from the people who normally inhabit our lives tend to blur one into another? Groundhog Day (gratefully without Sonny & Cher)! There are times when this feels like we've all been (unfairly) sent to our rooms. Other times, it seems we've been given this time-out for another purpose, to reflect on What Really Matters. Not what we think should really matter when we're looking at news reports, listening to podcasts, Zooming or dwelling too long on Facebook—but the meaning we discover for ourselves in the midnight hour of our aloneness.
In a strange way, this period has brought me the gift of freedom to experience who I am as a non-social creature. What are my preferences if no one's looking? You might never know unless I reveal them to you! Of course, this is the risk of intimate relating: I choose to show you the stuff I might otherwise hide. A Unity minister once parsed "intimacy" as "into to me I see." I like that. By risking to share with you, I may claim myself more fully.
I wish I could say I understand the art I am making at the moment. A few weeks ago, I wrote that PINK had arrived as a way of bringing healing; now, as I paint over older canvases, I'm creating a series of works that I'm calling Abstract Prayers. Most feature bold, simple design and color that is sometimes harmonious and complementary, and sometimes jarringly ugly!
I've given these new works titles drawn randomly from my deck of Angel Cards, as they have become for me a kind of meditation tool. Sharing these is definitely risky. My co-dependent, people-pleasing self winces as I post images of them on Instagram. I can hear people say, "What are these odd things?"
If this period of blurry days has shown me, it's the truth in the truism, "This too shall pass ...." Already, as our local economy is re-opening, the early morning silence I've enjoyed so much has been shattered by the roar of the landscapers back at it with their leaf blowers. I'm glad they have the work; however, wouldn't it be nice if we weren't all so dependent on noisy machines? Oh well! I'm grateful I don't have to run the world today. Instead, I'll get busy doing what is mine to do at the easel. And, later on, maybe I'll fit some more pieces in the jigsaw puzzle I'm working on.
Thanks for letting me share my insides with you!
Please take good care,
Ellie
Read More

