January 04, 2008

4:21 p.m.

One Square at a Time

Three days ago, I was siezed with the compulsion to draw again. Two days ago, I bought an easel and some sketch pads. Yesterday I spent half the day rearranging my kitchen nook into an art studio.

Today, in the face of various fears, I started my first project.

I haven't drawn for two or three years -- I forget which year it was that I went on the hermitage retreat and drew my grief and anger over Will. I was so pleased with how they came out, once I started using myself as a model, taking digital pictures in black and white and drawing from the 1" x 1-1/2" viewing screen on the back. It was a rather silly approach but it's the only tool I had. Once I got home, I stopped drawing because... the light wasn't right any more.

But putting together the da Vinci puzzle I was looking at a picture of his self-portrait, the one with the long bushy beard done in reddish pencil, and I said out loud, "I wish I could draw like that. If I could draw like that... nothing else would matter."

Then the world stopped for a few minutes while I contemplated how I could use the perfect light that comes in the double kitchen windows. I'd have to move some furniture. I'd have to keep the breakfast nook neat. I'd have to commit to it as part of my daily life, the space through which I move.

So I've done it. I let Leonardo inspire me.

The first picture is maybe too ambitious, but I'm trying it anyway. It's from a photo of the band at our Cropredy performance in England, a closeup of us all singing on one mic. I'm fairly fearful of it; I can hear the critical voice saying, "What if the picture doesn't look like you guys? What if it's not a fair representation? What if you can't erase your mistake lines? What if you find the limit to what you can do here?"

Yet, the spirit of Reiki (and probably my mom, who painted for a while) is with me and I'm not paralyzed. I hear the fears. I go forward anyway. Let's just see what happens. The light is very good in my kitchen.

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In other artistic news, a friend asked me this week if I'd ever considered going to the MacDowell Colony. It's a famous artist retreat in New Hampshire -- Thornton Wilder wrote "Our Town" there, for example -- and there are 32 studios available on 450 acres of land. I didn't remember ever hearing of it before, but if I can get materials together in a week or so, I'm going to apply for a summertime residency of a couple of weeks. I've cleared it with Carol. Who knows what the odds are, but if one is accepted, it's free -- they even provide food. I have to write a sort of proposal and get a letter of reference from someone "in authority" in my discipline of choice. I think that narrows it down to music, as I don't know any poets or visual artists who could vouch for me. It doesn't matter. I can apply as a musician and bring all my stuff with me anyway. No one will be monitoring me. And I do have songs to finish.

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So, back to this morning; I studied a little Reiki, drew a little, went to the gym and worked up a sweat on the treadmill, almost not running. Rose suggested I give it an incline to increase the workout without additional impact. My dear buddy Normandy was scheduled to come down for half the day (she has this week off due to "suspension without pay" for the bra incident*, but had to postpone, as her daughter wasn't feeling well. We'll try again Tuesday. I was glad to have the day open up, anyway.

*It's at http://bornearly.diaryland.com/071221_12.htm but I can't figure out how to make that link work right now. Rgh.

I also talked to Wes finally, who is flitting back to New Jersey again tomorrow and couldn't get together. He confessed to feeling in a rut; gained weight over the holidays, hasn't worked on his autobiography for three weeks, isn't taking good care of himself. We talked again about his lady chum down in NJ; he enjoys her company, while she adores him. He thinks that might be a fair enough exchange. She's starting to do some booking for him and he thinks if their little affair stops, she won't work for him any more. Sounds like he's a little stuck in compromise, but when he examines the big picture he thinks he maybe could spend his life contentedly enough with her. He's sixty. He doesn't want to be alone.

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Tonight's menu features buffalo chili with red and green peppers and two kinds of beans, along with loaded whole wheat cornbread (with corn, asiago cheese, and capers). Not sure about the caper thing; it's an experiment. My whole life is an experiment now. I'm dividing it up into a grid and drawing it one square at a time.