In the Art Studio: The Insides of a Heart

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heartsong {etsy}

Something strange has been happening at my art table lately.  Strange, but good.

It goes something like this:

I pine for my art-making, miss it deeply.  And then -- surprise!  My sweet son surprises me with the gift of a nap, and I run for the art table.

I sit.  I stand up, procrastinate, sit again.  I shuffle things about.

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what is this place? {art journal page}

And then -- I begin.  I dip my brush into paint or water and begin.

It feels awkward.  I paint anyway.

All of a sudden, I am overcome by emotion.  I want to lay my head and heart down against the painting and press my skin, my self, against it and into it.  I want to cry.  I do cry.

I keep painting.

in progress
peace {in progress}

Something special is born on the canvas, something unexpected.  The pieces, they feel raw and tender and bittersweet.

They are, I think, a picture of the insides of my heart.

I don't know how this is happening.  But I am so glad that it is.  It is a gift.  Thank you, God.

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you are not too much {etsy}

I try not to hold this gift too tightly, because won't it stop being a gift if I expect it, demand something of it?  I try and hold it as I would a bird, all earth-colored feathers, light and trembling and soft.

I don't know who I'm becoming.  What my art is becoming.  Everything feels broken today and these days.

What is this new thing?

I have no answers, hear no reply.  So I keep painting, when I can, as I can.

after the storm
after the storm {etsy}

What is this new thing?

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