Wednesday's art.

Two paintings in one week. I feel amazing,  my kitchen does not.

Luckily, kitchens have zero feelings,  so all I see when I look in there is a successful week of creativity.  My home is often clean, but I have no problem getting lost in the creative flow first.  In fact, I feel much better about tackling the kitchen after I finished a painting or a sewing project.  My creative voice is so much louder than the one that says, you need a spotless kitchen.  The latter voice is a very quiet whisper that can only be heard when I can't find a clean mug for my coffee.

Now, I know there is a balance. I have a family, who is my heart and it's nice for them to have clean forks and to be able to find the floor in our bedrooms, but primarily they need love, peace, comfort, and encouragement. And I'm better at all those things when I'm creative.  If I always had a clean home, I'd just be tired and grumpy, who wants to be live with a person like that?

Yesterday, I told my husband, I know the kitchen is a mess, but I had to paint.  He answered, good. I love that about him.  He understands.

I'm not really one who struggles with guilt or feeling like I should do something. I tend to reject the things that go with "shoulds", because mostly those voices are from somewhere else, not so much inside.  Outside voices bring clutter, clutter of thoughts, time, and energy, this does nothing for creativity

Even still, sometimes, I feel like there is this societal pressure to have a perfectly clean home, be super busy, and be everything to everyone, where does that come from?  Honestly, society doesn't live in this house, we do. And society probably isn't going to knock on my door to check if my home is pristine anytime soon. I leave the house maybe 2 or 3 days a week, I don't even mind.  I hate being busy, it sucks my energy dry.  Creativity requires energy.



Lately, I've come to this realization that for too long I've been idealizing an image that I don't even desire. It's an image of a busy, super-involved life.  I struggle on and off with this idea that we're not doing enough things.  But, in moments of peace and clarity, I remember that because I'm not doing all those other things, I'm painting, baking, reading stories to my kids, writing, taking care of my family, taking walks, noticing the sprawling shadows on the sidewalk, breathing in the deep comforting aroma of my coffee... all the things that fuel my creativity, make me better, and allow me to serve and love my family more.

Life is huge, but I told a friend recently, that creativity keeps me sane.  I suppose that is the point of everything I just said.

Thoughts?

This painting was inspired by one I found by this French artist.  I was moved in a deep, I can feel the wind sweeping up my hair, gazing at the masterpiece that is the sky, kind of way.   So, I wanted to attempt a reproduction for myself.
This one will find a place on our home, not in the shop out of respect for the artist of the inspired piece.