Re-Invention

I cannot help myself these days….I keep pulling former paintings out of their frames, stripping the varnish and repainting them. These paintings do not measure up to my standards and it kills me to let them linger in this state of not hitting the mark. I look back at the period in my life these misfits originated from and they mostly stem from what I refer to as “The Summer from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks”…specifically the summer of 2011.

It was a season of upheaval in mine and my husband’s lives. It was the months preceding his massive stroke and the stress levels we lived with were off the charts. We had invited a young woman who we considered a daughter, along with her 3 year old child (with whom we are still active as grandparents) to live with us. It was our house or a homeless shelter and how does one send a child that one has cradled and cared for since birth toward that environment? So we sucked it up and provided them aid.

What we did not know right away was she had become a heroin addict and her child was reacting with angry and confused behavior. I literally moved my art studio out of my home into my mother’s home so I could have some degree of refuge to paint during those months. My retired husband had no such haven and bore the brunt of the drama from a lying, lazy and addiction-protecting woman who left her child unattended and wildly out of bounds; creating a chaotic atmosphere in what should be a sanctuary. Even though his specialists tell me that his stroke was just bad luck….I still harbor resentment that it was the ordeal of living with an addict who stole from us, lied, betrayed and broke our hearts that created the straw that broke the camel’s back.

So I may have had the luxury of driving away each day but the emotions followed like a contrail. It is no wonder the colors I mixed on my palette resonated as garish and high key. The stroke of the brush cut sharp and jagged, the drawing was almost there but had an edge of oddness. I felt like I was living in a Bazaaro world. Which is very apt if you know how much my husband is a fan of Superman!

But painting is not sculpture…it is not carved in stone and it can be rebuilt. Just like we can be….

2 years have passed and so much has changed. One does not go through major events like we have without feeling a sense of re-invention. My conviction has always been strong but it has been re-forged. I will still paint mistakes at times but I feel more confident I can catch them before I release them.

I just looked at the calendar and realized why today, of all days, these thoughts emerged so suddenly. It took 2 years, but the young woman we sheltered, loved, supported and believed in is being sentenced today. The charges are felony of Theft in The First Degree, and Trafficking In Stolen Property In The Second Degree. She was 11 years old when she burst into our lives as a bright spark….15 years later she leaves it with a fizzle. It is not only my chance to re-invent. Her life is in her hands now…I am looking out for my own. 

Photo of a rock outside a woodcarver's home