The painting: “The Diver and the cave”, by dcrelief
After many years of a medicated life and feeling numb to anything or anyone, I finally chose to come off of the medications and take my chances on finding some normalcy again. Yes I had some issues that had plagued for a long time that needed addressing. And I also found out that I had an illness called Fibromylagia which had induced my original depression. I wasn’t clinically depressed; however the damage done by the medications left me without a life. My mind fought hard to regain the cognitive abilities and my body, so racked by side effects, would never be the same.
Along came the day I decided to take up painting again and I wanted to do a study in black backgrounds. Reflective of my feelings at that time, black was invisible, which is how I felt. Since then black has come to be the very show piece for allowing my paintings, pictures, and photos to “pop” off the page.
This first painting called, “The Diver and the Sea Slug” was so easy and yet I spent three days fighting my insides, screaming at me, that I could not do a painting. I decided to just blank out my thoughts and let the brush and colors flow as they would. I soon learned that divers always travel in pairs! Thus along came painting number two: “The Diver and the cave”.
I did the painting for a friend and his wife, using a combination of photos they had. I listened in amazement as they told of the things they had seen underwater; the precious view they had developed for all life. From the tiniest sea creatures and larger mammals traveling great oceans, to the very divers in their group, each form of life has a place in the great cycle of existence. Though some may disappear and new ones come along, it behooves us to appreciate all life.
Hmm, each form has a place? I wasn’t sure of mine but this was a beginning thing to find me, and see what I could be… again… anew.
I feel the pain that rests within your lines, Dixie. Chronic illness affects more than one's initial diagnosis. It affects the body, mind, and soul. Many days, I doubt myself so much that I completely shut down. I feel nothing I do is right. You are so right about that 'invisible' feeling. I guess, we disappear so much within ourselves that we seem to 'fade' away.
ReplyDeleteWith honesty and open-heart, you tell your story...you touch me deeply. I think it is wonderful that you are finding yourself through your remarkable talents as a painter and writer. You are very courageous.
It is always my great pleasure to stop by your blog. I find a bit of myself in the words you write.
Thank you for sharing,
Mattie
Dear Mattie,
ReplyDeleteIn the fall 2000 I was given five years to live. Sometimes I feel it is an incredible accomplishment to make it this farther down the road.
Like the main character from the Gibran book, "The Prophet", I feel as if I'm waiting on my ship. So while I'm waiting I'm sharing what I can.
When I read your comment I thought: 'Oh yes, she understands.' Then a second thought came: 'Oh no, she understands.
Empathy is a powerful tool for healing. I thank you for sharing about you. Blessings to you.
Dixie
Dear Dixie,
ReplyDeleteI shall keep this comment brief. The empathetic interaction with Mattie and yourself is testimony to the great strength and resilience you both have.
Hi Gary,
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind observation and comment.
That painting is good.
ReplyDeleteplz tell me you paint for living.
You gotta be doing that.
--desp
-desp,
ReplyDeleteThis painting, along with four others, was exchanged for medical services for a friend. It turned out to be a blessing for all.
To answer your question, I've never really thought any talent I had was worth selling. lol. It was an incredible leap to think the doctor would be happy with the results of the divers and beach scenes.
Thanks. Dixie