Art in the Park, June
The intense heat melted and warped the air. Dust particles, too tired to dance, made a thick film on sweaty places.
A few brave souls strolled by my tent, slowed by the heavy air, their enthusiasm draining with each step. The first day of summer arrived with temperatures better suited for a pizza oven. The army of colorful artwork, shiny stands and white tents could not fight the blistering conditions. The metal screens stood bravely in the dust, holding my paintings for the people to see.
“Look here!” the canvases cried out; but it came out more as a whisper. “Here are pieces of her inner being. These are not just pretty pictures. They are the result of battles, the struggles she took to capture a fleeting moment. That instant when moonlight washed the path… The glow of dawn on her garden… The summer sunlight brushing against the palm… The wind in the grass... The feeling of a daydream… All fought hard before being captured.
The sweat I wiped from my face today is nothing compared to the sweat I poured into these paintings. Thousands of decisions, as well as indecision, plus hours of practice stand behind each brush stroke. The despair of ever getting it right and the joy when it comes together dance behind the paint.
Here is my soul baking in this heat, getting dusty in the park, waiting for someone to stop, or even just hesitate. A sale or just a kind word – a validation would temper the afternoon. Stop and look at them closely. Point one out to your friend. My spirit needs these small morsels to heal and grow. Only then can I slice off the next piece for another painting. Sales buy the supplies but the interactions grow the art.
FOR SALE: My soul, bruised and battered, but still able to dream.