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| 8" x 10" reserved |
today is dedicated to all the things i said i would do, but didn't. i'd also like to recognize the people i said i would call back but never did, not to mention the good deeds left undone, the best intentions, the grandiose plans never executed, the commitments i made and then flaked on, and the great ideas i forgot to write down. oh, the "air balls" of life: there are many of you, floating in the periphery of my head-space, threatening to sneak into my subconscious during what should be a restful sleep. today, i release you into the wild, to fend for yourself. because the new me doesn't let that shit fly.
this is a painting i thought i would do, and even said i would do, a long time ago. i really wanted to paint it, and i never did. i completely spaced it out. it comes from a photo by a woman named wendy, who worked to rehabilitate these owls. wendy saw a painting i'd done of an owl, and wanted it in her home, because owls are really special to her. it was too late, the painting was sold. yesterday, when she contacted me, i thought of the countless times that has happened to me--a simple missed opportunity--that ends up hanging heavy on the heart. so today i bit the bullet, and painted the picture that would mean something to wendy, and to me too.
the best part about painting for me is when i make someone's day better. i can even do it by accident. like the time i painted an excerpt of a photo of a desert motorcycle race. it may have been plagiarism, but i did it anyways and called it "appropriation". i hung the painting at the old town cafe, and one day a woman named Nancylee came in, saw the piece, and exclaimed, "that's my dad!!". turned out, of all the hundreds of people in that photo, i had painted him, unmistakeably identified by his helmet: immortalized on canvas, ever so accidentally. that, my friends, is the best part of painting.
when i was little, anytime any one of us threw an "air ball" while playing ghetto hoops at the park, we would always follow it up with a very loud and quite rowdy "YOU SUCK".
ReplyDeletei fight against, rage against, committing even my intentions to things that will most likely not happen. but i fail at that miserably. an active imagination is usually a villain to reality. especially in my current situation. but i sure try to be as awesome as my mind can lead me to believe i am...and then the 2.75 year old comes knocking on the back of my leg with a "give me some green juice" and i remember that really, i'm only as awesome as he thinks i am.
you and i are cut from the same cloth love. two entirely different dresses, but still, the same plaid.
i love you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jessica! It's beautiful! Your honest words are so touching and inspiring... they brought a tear to my eye. You're such a lovely writer and your kindness shines through in it. I only wish I knew you a little better.
ReplyDeleteIf you should run out of space for all these one-a-days, I think I know a good spot for the immortals :)
Wendy
Yes Jessie- it was an awesome day to find that famous photo of my dad "appropriated" by you and done so damn well! this hangs in our living room and i tell its story as often as i can. it proves to me that all of life is serendipitous- a fortune accident.
ReplyDeleteand, by the way, when i showed this to my dad- who is mechanical engineer who grew up on a farm in ohio and is notorious for having no interest in any form of culture: music, dance, art- he smiled, chuckled and said, "now, that's a good painting."
i am enjoying these once a day paintings so much- and i really enjoyed hearing you beat the drums in your sweet lil band. i want to go back in time and have y'all play at my middle school prom.