I am experiencing a form of identity crisis. Many times before, I have been unsure of myself, and now, starting a blog requires serious questions. Why am I doing this? Where do I want to go with it? Who am I talking to? What do I want to say? How will I manage to sustain it?
As I have done so many times before in a variety of situations, after spending a long time standing on the edge of the abyss, I will just jump. The result is usually much more pleasurable than painful. I am still working out the technical details, so please bear with me.
So, here I am. I am an artist. It is said that an artist should paint what he knows. Today I paint (and write) mostly about things that reflect on femininity, but not always. Men are fascinating, but I know about being a woman.
I once read that a "writer" is one who cannot stop themselves from writing. That's me. Now I will share it with whom ever is open to it, rather than stuffing it into a file, never to be seen again.
The painting that accompanies this post is one of my first oil paintings after many years. It is called Identity Crisis. Inspired by idly toying with some fruit on an old blue wooden picnic table in the fall of 1996, I noticed that it expressed the emotions I had then of feeling out of place. My children had left the nest. I was confused by the onset of menopause, questioning my role in the future as a woman. With fewer maternal obligations, I wanted to start my painting again with a serious commitment to the authenticity of painting what I knew. I was a vegetarian, I loved the colors and forms of fruits and vegetables. It was as this blog is now - a start.
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