I have created a space that belongs to me in my home. Still shared and accessible but still claimed. It’s not easy to find space in the one bedroom apartment I share with my husband and french bulldog in Vancouver. You see to think, paint and breathe, I need to be alone or away. I need quiet away from the TV or radio that my husband prefers as white noise. I need a place to put the objects I use for contemplation. A place to leave them out where I can see them, a reminder to not forget my practice. I had put off clearing a space, too much clutter and not quite right. Now I felt the urge, the pressure and itch to create. I felt claustrophobia from no space to think and breathe. I began to clear a space on the balcony. I planted succulents in pretty coloured pots and placed them where I can watch them grow and thrive. On impulse, I bought a bench easel for myself for my birthday. I placed the less than perfect chairs where I can sit and watch the wind in the trees and feel the sun on my skin. As there is shelter, I will be able to watch the leaves change colour through the seasons. I place my paints, pencils and brushes on the table nearby. I found a weathered looking singing bowl. I placed it on a mat with an embroidered image of Ganesh, remover of obstacles, upon it. I place my smiling Buddha statue at the door to greet me as I walk outside. And so I sit in my place, my space and I begin. I invite the sound of the singing bowl, asking for forgiveness from my neighbours, my dog and my husband who sleeps nearby. The sounds resonates in my chest and invites me to breathe deeply and go inward. I feel the sun on my skin and hear the breeze in the trees. When I open my eyes, I look over the grass, tree, roof top and sky. I move over to my easel. I mix paint with a brush. I breathe in, then out. I move my brush across the paper. I create.
Writing
Painting
I'm fascinated with the idea of capturing something in a single stroke of colour. To remove all details and distill something down into it's simplest form is hard. Sometimes it's nature and sometimes it's an emotion. I have begun to study Enzo in more detail. Before I paint I take in a deep breath, then release it as I paint the brushstroke.