Deep Thoughts

On Friday, when I cleaned up my brushes and stood back from my easel, I like what I painted, but I had this sensation that it was just "fluff."
It was a museum scene and I like it, and its well painted, but I began to have doubts that it was "art." Doubts perhaps that I am not "pushing" myself.
Those doubts rather increased through the afternoon and I think some of that had to do with the fact that I spent a couple of hours with my husband at the neurologist again. His troubles seem to be increasing and there are doubts now about the toxin diagnosis. Things certainly get put into perspective fast when your loved ones are ill or unhappy. He is in for more tests early next week.

So I think I began to feel like my painting was a nice outlet, and healthy for my mental state, but is it all so important? NOW... before I start sounding like I'm having a big pity party let me go on to say that I've been reading this nice little book simply called The Impressionists (Art in Detail, by Diana Newall) and I began to reflect on the work the impressionists did. Most notably they documented scenes of ordinary life and people. They were perhaps groundbreaking at the time, but they were not trying to set the world on fire. They simply wanted to paint what they knew, what they experienced and understood first-hand.

And that made me feel so much better. I, too, like to paint what is familiar to me. And the reasons are that it is comforting. I paint the places I like to be, the things I like to experience and share. So in times of worry and doubt, I love nothing more than to sit in a quiet corner of a coffee shop, or browse for a good book, or to get together with friends for a nice dinner - to be part of the world, to be "out there." But then to work at home alone in my studio and recreate those moments of relaxation and togetherness is a gift. And its that which makes me want to paint these common scenes, and that which I hope carries forward to those who buy my work and want to look at it everyday in their homes. There is comfort in the familiar.