“Waiting” 6x6, oil on canvas, $125

I’ve not been posting much– forming coherent thoughts, finishing paintings I start– all of it feels harder than it used to. I am full of anxiety, fear, and confusion– strange little feelings to have on a day like today. Sun shining, birds chirping, people taking walks down my tree-lined street. The roar of weed-eaters and lawn mowers. The most glorious breeze sweeping past my bare shoulders as I sit in my backyard to write this. 

But it is day 1 of my child being home from school for at least a month, probably more. It is day 1 of seeking out my new normal. If you’ve been with me since the beginning, you know I started painting every day as a way to process the profound grief I was experiencing. As a way to grow and love. A way to connect and tap into my power. That was then, and this is now.

Two art festivals I was planning to participate in were cancelled. This morning brought my first live wedding painting cancellation; many more, I am sure, should and will follow. My own wedding set for the end of May is uncertain. Who knows what this world will look like by then. 

And so today, not sure of what else to do, and knowing what has helped before, I’m going to start another daily painting practice– one that doesn’t have an end date like my annual 31 in 31s, but one I hope will help me navigate these uncertain times. This is my attempt to reach out without touching, connect while keeping my distance. 

This is what I know to do, and I’m doing it, humble as it may be. Please let me know what you are doing to manage uncertainty, any lessons you are learning, and insights you might have. I want, now more than ever, to hear from you, connect with you, learn from you, grow with you. 

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