Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.
― Paulo Coelho,
I was looking at this older painting from years ago this morning. It was a late entry into my Outlaws series back in 2006 and I think I only showed it for a very short time in one gallery. It has floated around the studio for the past decade, never really finding a place of its own in which to dwell.
I wouldn’t call it a great piece. Maybe not even a good piece but it has a lot of meaning for me. Every so often I pick it up and find myself captured in the moments that I see in it.
I see myself in it, those early mornings when I find myself wide awake at 4 AM with the wheels in my minds spinning furiously. Sometimes it is a good thing with something positive and creative emerging from this pent up energy. Other times, it is sheer angst and I find myself much like the figure in this painting, staring out the window waiting for the dark to recede and be replaced by the first dim light of dawn.
On the good days that light is full of high hopes for what is coming. It’s exciting. On the not so good days it is just a painful wait for what seems to be nothing but the possibility of having enough light to wash away the darkness and maybe spark something to move ahead on. It is a dull and drab ache, a suffering that I am reminded of in the words at the top from author Paulo Coelho.
So you can see that this painting, though it may not be among the finest of my work, has real meaning for me. So perhaps in a small way, even in a way that only applies to me, it is somehow a good piece.