Confessions of an Earth Hugging Art Junkie

I’m a fan of BIG questions.

Life-tuning queries that provoke….no, DEMAND…first thought, then action. Revolutionary authenticity. Any topic fair game….I thought. Until one Tuesday morning’s biting inquiry into my personal art practices.

“How is a studio full of colorful garbage helping a world drowning in waste?”

My creative output…a worthless pile of trash? Preposterous! What you see isn’t a product. It’s a process. Like a journal on happiness steroids. A means of cracking the overthinking code, paring away perfectionism, and teasing my inner child out of hiding. Yup…therapy.

“Have you seen your therapy room?” Big Question sneered.

In the slightly waning name of revolutionary authenticity, I plunked my oversized man-shirt paint-apron down. Into a smallish left-corner barrel chair. It was always here, in these cozy cocoa fake-leather arms that clarity increased.

Fake…leather? Got you! Compassion-based fabric. Save the cows! One point for me.

Skillful avoidance, I’ll give you that. But we aren’t talking about furniture. We’re talking about that closet stuffed with unfinished paintings. The ones you claim you’ll get back to…but never do…because you’re on to other projects.