So, back in February, we took the plunge and moved into our studio. Home from home. I have found somewhere I feel like I belong, somewhere where I am me.
With the door closed anyway.
Just the other day my boss said to me that I was a hard person to get to know, that he couldn't figure me out. What did he mean?
I've worked in the same place for almost two years now, it's a very small workplace, how after all this time could he be implying he didn't really know me? I guess I surprised him with snippets of information regarding life beyond work. Things I'd never even hinted at before, or more accurately, things I'd kept private.
My other half says similar things every now and again, that I don't talk.
So, it made me think about how much of ourselves we share with the people we spend our lives with, those we live with and those that are just passing through.
When I don't talk at home it's simply trying not to burden anyone with additional worries, nothing more. We all do that.
At work, I am generally in employee mode. I share very little about my home life and even less about me as an individual. Why? I've no idea, really.
Perhaps I was scared no-one would understand the artistic side of me, wouldn't get that burning need to create. Would berate me, write me off as weird.Dismiss my art.
My other half openly admits he doesn't get it, but that has been a surprising relief. He's been amazingly supportive, can see what it means to me, but can't get his head around the art I make. But for the first time ever it's allowed me to create what I want to create without wondering what anyone else thinks, without feeling stifled or needing approval. I've no creative counterpart to supress, stifle or influence me. I can breathe.
Four months and I've travelled further than I have ever dared before.
One life drawing class to now being asked if I'd be interested in a joint exhibition with just a few others.
Artists across Forth Valley opened up their studios this past week. I took part although due to events at home I did not get round to producing any finished pieces for the exhibition.
It was hard to just open the door and let people in, but most definitely worth it. The feedback was invaluable.
I only had a handful of pictures that I'd thrown together on paper. Things I'd worked on just for myself.
Things that meant something though. Personal things and I suddenly realised that I was frightened to share.
I'm glad I did. I'm glad I can stand up and now say that one emerged from how I felt when we had sat an hour in a hospital waiting room terrified of what news was about to be broken, and that other one is simply how I reacted to the stunning view from the top of Ocean Terminal.
How much anyone else can see, I don't know. Maybe they see nothing. Maybe they see things that aren't even there. It still scares me but the door will be staying well and truly open.
 |
| An Hour Early |
 |
| Out Over Leith |
No comments:
Post a Comment