What if... Love is a chemical reaction that occurs when I discard my likes and surrender to love?
Tag: act of love
Scream. Cry. Love. Hate. Repeat
Prologue
I’ve been sporadically working on my son’s Dragon and have some in-progress pictures here. I was inspired by a picture he drew with passionate energy. The post has been a lovely vignette of an enchanting kids painting in-progress (written with a touch of sarcasm).
But now
I could scream
Maybe I did. I can’t remember clearly. There was a rush of something – maybe adrenaline – that clouded my vision, my heart beat accelerated and a trembling wave of shock radiated from my chest. Thinking rationally – gone. Control of my hands – gone.
The watercolor has a mind of its own! I can’t control it! Oh My God! Its running all the way into the green! The yellow! Oh no the yellow! All the hours in this painting lost. Where are the Q-Tips! They aren’t working! F*ck Watercolors!
I dropped the Q-Tips and brushes.
I. Must. Walk. Away.
Breathe.
I hate this painting
It is so trite and cliche. I’ve seen it before, not original, definitely done somewhere else by someone else more skilled. A kids vision. Not sophisticated. I’m stealing his vision because I have no vision. I’m an idiot in over my head. The rainbow is too much, I can’t handle it. This is taking me too long.
I love this Painting
I love the story. I love my son. I love the way this painting has pushed me. I love the crazy colors. I love that Daire made the lower jaw bigger because when the dragon closes his mouth you can’t see how big his teeth are. I love that he breathes fire and water and stars. The dragon has no arms. Poor little arm-less dragon, I love you.
Sigh.
And Repeat.
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Where Does *Talent* Come From?
I’ve been thinking about this lately.
My report card from middle school. A regular “A” student and good kid, but something is wrong in Art class. I remember being unsatisfied and I don’t remember why. I can’t recall the teacher’s face. She was mediocre and made it clear that I was a mediocre art student (B’s were mediocre in my family and the highlighting is mine). And by the way, I was good at Math but I didn’t like Math. That “A” had very little to do with “Like”. I liked art, my friends, writing, playing sports and reading.
And this
My old work from 2002 when I was inspired to pick up a paint brush and paint. I painted from photographs, read books and pushed through countless so-so paintings (I only kept the best of them). I was heartened knowing that Frida Khalo didn’t start painting until she was 19 when she was suddenly bedridden and immobile after a horrible accident. I always thought creative talent was a birthright and to be an artist you needed to express it in youth like the genius Mozart. (I can’t comprehend that statement now, especially after having kids.) The realization that this wasn’t true inspired me to work, knowing the more I worked the better I would get.
And now, 2015.
Metamorphosis copyright Marika Reinke Read the Full Story: https://marikareinke.com/2014/12/17/metamorphosis-dec-2014/
SOLD: 2011: Dragon in the Tree copyright Marika Reinke Full Story Here: https://marikareinke.com/2014/10/31/2011-dragon-in-the-tree/
Conception by Marika Reinke Watercolor
A healed body is a fit body copyright Marika Reinke.
SOLD: Road to Recover (Fall 2014) copyright Marika Reinke Read the Full Story: https://marikareinke.com/2014/11/12/roads-to-recovery-fall-2014/
SOLD: Casting Prayers in Puerto Vallarta (c) Marika Reinke Read the Full Story: https://marikareinke.com/2015/01/06/casting-prayers-in-puerto-vallarta-january-2015/
I paint well enough that it touches people (not everyone), sometimes to tears, sometimes to buy my originals and prints, hire me and even to consider tattooing my work on their bodies.
Painting is important to me because painting is an act of love, and one that I’ve committed to making the center of my life. Love at the center of life – that is powerful.
It is easy to blame that teacher for stifling my creative expression. It is easy to blame a culture that creates the fantasy that talent, (especially creative talent), is born, not worked for. Or I can blame my “Type A” family that let that “B” slide because it was Art class and therefor not important.
But faults are in the past. Blame is useless. Blaming takes no responsibility for the future. I tell my kids, there is no use telling me whose fault it is, the question really is “How will you move forward learning from the experience?”
It is never too late to start answering that question. How would you?
If you would like to learn more about Frida Kahlo I recommend reading this book. Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo – October 1, 2002 by
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