So Why Art…

A creative life has brought me on incredible journeys. Explorations of subject matter that has truly captivated me. I will forever be a student of form and movement. The human body will always pose the most embraceable challenge.

So why art? Why painting? The how’s and why’s of a lifelong passion trace back to childhood but the inspirational influences have been overwhelmingly constant throughout my life.

As a young child I always wanted to be somewhere else. During my early grammar school days, I wanted to be home. I wanted to be with my mother. Homesick from the moment I stepped onto the school bus. Fearful of leaving her. Would my bedridden great grandmother that lived with us fall again? She bled easily and often it seemed. An ambulance arrived just as the school bus stopped at the end of our drive one morning. Maybe even more often than the one time I so clearly recall. I don’t know for certain as some things I have simply blocked from memory. However, the once was impactful enough at age 6. I wanted to stay home to help my mother.

The school day was about daydreaming. Being somewhere else and in a world that I could mentally create. Escaping from the mandatory environment that I was required to endure was paramount. Imagining a place that was all that I wanted it to be and then change it again if I so desired. A Tom and Jerry-esq cozy little mouse house. An oversized plush red chair. Paintings on the warmly colored walls slanted in a comfortably familiar way.  The imaginary world I created was hidden and protected from the outside world.

I frequently put my head down on the desk for what seemed like most of first grade. Quietly wishing to go home. Tears fell without notice. Mrs. Long, my teacher, allowed me to do so without comment or correction. Better days were spent looking out the long oblong classroom window. A large silver handle turned up to the right on warmer days. Tilting the window in and open allowing the outside world to come reassuringly in. Windows that stretched the full exterior wall while resting on the clanging radiators. Smells of white paste and yellow lined practice paper. Newly mimeographed worksheets passed out daily from front to back. My teacher’s voice muffled in my brain. I don’t remember learning my A, B, C’s but I did. The circular paved drive was off to the right of my classroom held my attention.  I could monitor the buses coming and going. A large white-faced analog clock ticked loudly and slowly high up over the classroom closets. Waiting daily for 3pm.

I was always looking outside. Doodling and dreaming through my elementary school years. Wondering and worrying too. Decorating notebook margins and a Girl Scout manual. Geometrical boxes, triangles, and peace signs. “Hippie fonts” a favorite. Large puffy lettering with a shadow attached. PEACE and LOVE. I understood the impact and importance of shadows when creating. How dramatically different they can make a drawing or painting. All items have something of a shadowy response.

I wasn’t as interested or focused on the endless class discussion around the abridged version of the Iliad and Odyssey, but 5^th grade was an important year for me. Mrs. Leite was an inspired educator. She was both a teacher and an artist. A water colorist. A political activist as well. She introduced more than art on a cart to our class when programs were being slashed from public schools. Challenging her students to think beyond the obvious. To think and create as individuals. Nothing was cookie cutter. Not art nor politics. Humphrey vs Nixon. A staunch Democrat already in the making. “Just because” didn’t work for me anymore.

Indoor recess became a positive.  The Beatles Hey Jude and Revolution on the 45-flip side. I liked the idea of revolting against norms. Breaking rules. Independent thinking. Independent thinkers. The fight against injustice. Black Panthers, Women’s Liberation and Vietnam. Fascinated with the issues of the day.

I am working on a collection of memoir esq essays…thank you for reading this excerpt!