So, as I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been painting a lot this year. I did most of the painting in a sketchbook, viewing it simply as a way of keeping a journal—a visual account of my days. It was just stuff I saw or did, like the little painting below of my favorite mug, or the one of a tabletop scene at a local coffee shop when I was able to make my way through the snow to meet up with a friend for pastries and coffee.
It was fun – I suddenly saw the world in a whole new way! Everything could be seen as a painting! I carried a little sketchbook around with me and bought a portable watercolor paint set. I carried these to work with me some days in the spring and made little paintings during my lunch break, like the ones below of fish benches and a scooter.
I read a lot about painting and checked books out of the library about painting as well as books full of images of paintings. I watched tutorials about painting on YouTube. It was a whole new world for me, and it felt so good to be in ‘beginner’s mind’ again, with no expectations and no pressure. I could paint whatever caught my fancy.
Eventually, the storyteller in me started adding text to the journal entries, and the ones throughout the summer are mostly like the entries below about the best pancake ever and some treasures a friend gave to me.
I decided to stop keeping an illustrated journal in the fall. I had started a painting project that was beginning to require all of my free time, and even though keeping an illustrated journal was fun and something I would love to have in my later years to be able to look back on, it required a lot of my time as well as my painting energy. So, I let it go.
I think the final image in the journal is an appropriate metaphor for that sort of letting go.