I created a few beautiful paintings back at the turn of the century. In the midst of dragging myself, bruised and grieving through relationship ruin, I was compelled to pick up a brush. All night, most nights. I love those art pieces. I don’t know where they came from and I view them with the deep appreciation and empathy I offer other artists. The thing that I love most about them is that I don’t own them. They came out of me – not from me. There’s so little baggage around them.
I’ve never been able to articulate that experience well. Eat. Pray. Love. author Elizabeth Gilbert nails the phenomenon perfectly in her Ted.com talk about the difference “being” a genius versus “having” one. This sets a perfect tone for my new website and blog.
Click here for a bit more wisdom from Elizabeth Gilbert.
Here are a few of the paintings. This one’s called “Love Heads”
And this one doesn’t have a name, but a friend look at it, laughed, and said – “Well, obviously this is the vulva series.” Definitely a Story Doula kind of story.